Darkling
by Waris
Summary: The Special Victims Unit fights crime every day, but even superheroes get help from somewhere else. Companion piece to Sibling Rivalry. Familiarity with the latter half of that story is recommended, but not mandatory.
1. Never Easy

TITLE: "Darkling"  
AUTHOR: Haili (aka: Waris, Haifever)  
PAIRINGS: None specified  
SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Language, some disturbing imagery in later chapters  
ARCHIVE: Don't care :) But an email informing me where it's going would be nice.  
SERIES/SEQUEL: Companion piece to "Sibling Rivalry". Familiarity with the latter chapters of that story is recommended, but not mandatory. Holds its own as a stand alone.

SUMMARY: The Special Victims Unit fights crime every day, but sometimes even superheroes get help from somewhere else.

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own any of the characters of L&O: SVU. Never have. Don't ever want to (too much responsibility!). I'm just using them as a work avoidance tactic again.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is only my second work of Fan Fiction, of any genre, ever. First was "Sibling Rivalry", go figure :D I gladly welcome and would greatly appreciate any and all feedback. But go easy on the flaming tomatoes. :) Huge thanks to any and all that reviewed "Sibling Rivalry"! The comments were very much appreciated!

_**Extra Note**_: I promised myself I'd never write another one. Aaaaaand, just like New Year's resolutions, it didn't keep :) I won't upload this one all in one chunk like I did "Sibling Rivalry" (mainly because I didn't know how to use the Chapter feature then and I do now, lol) but instead will try to update weekly. More often I hope if I can get my act together fast enough :) Reviews eagerly welcomed.

**"Never Easy"**

**Sunday Jan 12th  
7:00 pm  
Stabler household**

"Well I think you'd look great."

"In this."

Kathleen Stabler nodded, a grin on her face and an almost teasing nod bobbing her thick dark-blonde hair around her shoulders. She looked at the mirror, her hands on her hips, then looked at the woman standing next to her. "Yeah, you'd look blitzed!"

An incredulous stare arched one of Detective Olivia Benson's dark eyebrows. "I don't think so!" She half laughed as she looked at the ridiculously pink dress Elliot Stabler's daughter was coaxing her to put on.

It had been five days since Olivia'd been released from the hospital. The Stabler family had, upon learning from Elliot of her shooting, offered themselves immediately as her caretakers when the doctors had told her - Elliot within earshot mind you - she wasn't allowed on her own for the first few days following discharge. Being that she _lived_ on her own, she'd had no argument with which to contend the order, so she'd found herself bundled into her partner's car, showered with goofy balloons and a garden of flowers by the boys of SVU, and tucked away in the spare bedroom on the second floor of Elliot's home.

Tomorrow was her official first day back at work and Kathy had decided that, for some reason, that was cause to celebrate. They were going to dinner tonight. Benson, try as she might, hadn't been able to talk _any_ of them out of the gesture (it was no secret that Olivia Benson did not like attention drawn to herself in any way, for whatever reason), so here she now found herself standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the door holding a pink dress by its hanger in front of her body.

"Kathleen, 'blitzed' when I was your age meant drunk. It still means drunk." Olivia shook her head. With her left arm still in a dark blue sling while her shoulder continued to heal? The dress was made of shimmering dri-silk, had thin straps, a low back and was, well... pink. "There's no way." She handed her the dress.

Kathleen shook her head and pushed the hanger back towards the detective's chest. "C'mon," the young woman practically begged. "Mom had it dry-cleaned. She only wore it once, before she had the twins. It's perfect."

"Kathleen, Liv, you guys ready up there?" Elliot's voice sounded distantly from the first floor, his tenor echoing up the staircase and drifting into the room like smoke.

"Just a second!" Kathleen shouted back making Benson cringe slightly, even though she'd been leaning out the doorway when she'd hollered. Girl had a set of lungs on her.

"Well put a move on! We're outta here in fifteen minutes!" Footsteps sounded on hardwood as he moved away from the banister towards the kitchen where Kathy was trying to finish tiding up the twins.

Kathleen grinned and, with a look back at Benson, started to leave the room.

"Get back here right now," Olivia hissed in a frantic whisper, now slightly panicked. "I am not wearing this!" Go head to head with psychopathic criminals, sit in stand-offs with desperate armed juveniles for hours, stare rapists in the face and not bat an eyelash...you name it, Olivia Benson could do it. Put on a nearly back-less dress and go to dinner with her partner's family? Uh-uh.

"JUST put it on, Olivia," Kathleen exasperated from the doorway with an impatient flick of her hands. "You look good in pink."

Olivia snorted a laugh as she stared at the resistant and skeptical reflection staring back. "Says who?"

"Dad."

Benson's head shot around to see Kathleen's casual shrug as the girl left the doorway and jogged down the stairs.

**Same night  
9:45 pm  
Stabler household**

"I really can't persuade you to stay longer? Another night?"

The kids had gone upstairs and, hopefully, to bed, immediately after coming back from a fantastic Thai dinner, leaving the adults to chatter away in the front sitting room. Which they had for nearly two hours. Kathy was, again, fussing over the fact that, since tomorrow she'd be going back to work and had the all-clear from her doctor, Olivia was planning on going back to her apartment in the morning and not here.

Olivia smiled politely. "You've done enough. Kathy, really. I appreciate all of it. But I really should get back to my own place. My plants are probably dead."

"...they were dead before you left."

Kathy smacked Elliot upside the back of the head at his jibe, making him jerk forward from his position slouched into the leather sofa. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt collar unfastened, his shoes by the door. He was full, he had a healthy buzz from the drinks of the night, and, for the moment, New York didn't need saving. He was content.

"I'm going to go make sure Kathleen's alarm is set," Kathy chuckled throwing a 'you're so in trouble' finger at her husband as she left and padded out the room and upstairs.

Olivia took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. The gas fireplace was cracking and sparking quietly in the far corner, throwing the shadows from the room into eerie dances against the walls and ceiling. The atmosphere was rich and subdued, and Benson found herself getting drowsy.

"Get enough to eat?" Elliot asked. He left his head leaning against the back of the couch.

"Mm-hm." Olivia murmured, her own head leaning against the cushion behind her neck. She closed her eyes...then groaned softly. "Too much."

He chuckled. "Good."

A pause. The clock ticked on the wall above the mantle.

"How's the wing?"

"It's fine."

Silence hung in the air like a tendril of spider web, drifting aloft and never quite touching down anywhere. Knowing what to say was like either of them trying to touch it - they both knew it was up there, they just couldn't find it.

"You look good."

Olivia lifted her head from the back of the sofa and opened her eyes. "What?" His sudden candidness took her by surprise and sent some of her walls, which during the evening had started to slip, right back up.

"Good," Elliot repeated with a nod. "You look good." As if suddenly catching what he'd just said, and to whom, he added lightly, "Better than last week."

"Ah." Benson nodded slightly in return. The silence changed from a waif of silk to a block of concrete in an instant. "Thanks. I feel better." She sat up straighter and crept to the edge of her seat. "What time we need to be in again?"

"Eight."

"Right." Olivia stood. She didn't know what to do with her good hand, so she ran it down her auburn hair and left it hanging at the nape of her neck. "Think I'm gonna crash. See you in the morning."

"Yeah." Elliot turned and looked at the fire. He listened to her footsteps retreat up the stairs and closed his eyes. Sighing, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids. God, the night had gone _so_ well up until this moment. Then, as had happened several times over the last just two days, he'd said something kind, she'd gotten that defensive expression and posture of hers, and the walls crumbled around the moment as she tucked tail and ran.

"El?" Kathy called from the landing.

"Down here."

She came down the stairs, looking back briefly as Olivia's door shut quietly. "Olivia hit the sack already?" She sat next to her husband and rested her feet on the coffee table. She'd changed clothes and was comfortable in sweats and a t-shirt.

"Yep." He dropped his hands from his face and rubbed his jaw. He let his hands plop limply in his lap. His partner was an enigma wrapped in mystery and it frustrated the hell out of him that, even after four years of knowing the woman, he hadn't fully mastered the puzzle.

"Are you sure you can't convince her to stay the week?" Kathy's voice broke through the billowing haze of musing that had formed. Little lines creased her forehead.

"I'm sure." He nodded. "She needs it."

"I worry about her going home by her--"

"Kath." Elliot cut her off curtly but not unkindly as he got up from the couch himself. "Just trust me on this, okay? Don't press it." Over the course of this last week, Elliot had learned that fussing over or dolling attention towards Olivia Benson was like trying to scratch behind the ears of a caged animal. Reach your hand in the door, all you'd succeed in would be getting it severed.

Stabler bent down and kissed his wife on the cheek. "Come on. Come to bed."

The fire was turned down, lights were turned off, and the Stabler home was sent into darkness as a tenuous calm descended like fog.

**Next Day  
Monday Jan 13th  
7:57 am  
Precinct**

It felt good to be back. It felt _really_ good. Nothing had bothered her more during her week with the Stablers than knowing that while she was being waited on and checked on and fussed over, Elliot was here doing their job without her. Doing her job _for_ her. They'd not spoken the entire drive here and, at the moment he wasn't at his desk so she was spared actually having to make eye contact.

"Well. The prodigal daughter returns."

Olivia looked up from where she was standing by the coffee machine in the corner and a broad grin removed her expression of consternation. "Hey John."

John Munch, smart black shirt, pants, and suspenders all obsessive-compulsively in place, strode into headquarters and shook snow from his hat. He draped his coat over a hook on the wall and came to stand by her, watching as she man-handled the pitcher.

"Good to see you back. Captain's getting tired of spell-checking my files." He eyed her for a second rather inventfully maneuver a mug from the shelf and slip the pitcher from the strainer. "Want some help? Not easy I imagine runnin around with only one arm."

"Pull up some desk." She jerked her head at the empty one just beside her. "You can be impressed with my fending for myself."

John, missing the tartness of her tone, snorted a chuckle and moved to his desk.

"Yo 'livia!" Fin came blustering into the precinct as she was sitting down with her first mug.

Being as she had one arm in a sling, and a mug of steaming liquid occupying the other hand, all she could do was wiggle the last two fingers of the hand _holding_ said mug of steaming liquid at him as she finished her swallow carefully. The ceramic connected with her desk in a dull 'ca-lunk' as she set it down. She quickly slapped her hand down, stopping the fluttery getaway of some loose papers as Fin had breezed by her desk.

His dark hair and the shoulders of his jacket had beads of melted snow on them, making it look as though someone had sprinkled shards of glass over him. "How's it hangin?"

Grinning ruefully, Olivia shook her head. "That was bad, Fin. Even for you." His ribbing was refreshing and she was grateful at least one person wouldn't be asking her if she needed anything. She took another sip as he found his own desk. "How's it been?"

"John's drivin us crazy," Fin groused.

She quirked an eyebrow but didn't glance up again. "This is abnormal?"

"It's his date."

Olivia looked up from the file she was perusing and stared at John at this. He'd come between them and was sitting on the edge of Fin's desk, his hands clasped together. "You have a date?"

"It was not a date," John protested at Fin. Then, launching into one of his infamous attempts at logic, added, "It was a meeting between professionals with a mutual interest in the vocal arts."

"You took her to the opera?" Olivia sat back in her chair, its back creaking on its hinges. "John I'm impressed. I didn't think your neuroses allowed any room for originality."

"It won't last," Fin went on from behind him. "Unless she thinks she has Anthrax every other week."

"That hurts," John said, mock-insulted with a look over his shoulder. "I could need therapy."

"Yeah you ain't kiddin about that. Now get off." Fin shoved John's knee away. "It's freezing in here and your ass's making steam marks on my desk."

"Mm," Olivia mumbled from her mug of coffee. "Noticed that when we got here." She licked her lips and set the mug down. "Elliot went to talk to Maintenance about it, see what was up."

"That where your charming partner is," John mused as he plopped down into his own seat and flipped open a folder. He and Fin were in rare form today and, after a week of Kathy's politically-correct doting and Elliot's subtle worrying, Olivia was basking in the lack of tact the two men generated. "How was it living with the Munsuns?"

Benson opened her mouth to reply but a, "Morning people," from Captain Cragen interrupted it. Murmurs of greeting were sent back. "Olivia," Don acknowledged as he passed. "Good to see you. Why's it so damn cold in here?" He asked with an annoyed look around headquarters.

"Wind last night. Came in through a vent in the basement, blew the pilot lights out." Elliot came in through the wide doors of the unit wiping his hands on what looked like a dark red mechanic's towel. "Rodney's on it. Place should heat up again by afternoon." He tossed the grimy cloth in the trash bin by his desk and sat down.

"Great, so until lunchtime I'm sittin here freezin the boys off," Fin muttered.

"As engrossing as your ruminations over your reproductive organs are," Cragen began. "Let's say we just put on an extra layer for now and get some work done, hm?"

Each of the detectives took the captain's good-natured reproach in the spirit in which it had been intended and, shrugging on jackets, got to work.

**Same day  
2:50 pm  
Precinct**

"How long they been gone?"

Olivia stifled a sigh. "Elliot you've asked that four times in the last twelve minutes now. If you're really that hungry, go get something. You don't have to wait for them." John and Fin had sprung for lunch and had left nearly twenty minutes ago.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Not really." She was rubbing her eyes with her thumb and two fingers and couldn't keep the annoyed sharp angle from her voice. She'd not realized that sitting in a desk answering phones and reading file folders put so much strain on the muscles in the back and shoulders...until one shoulder already hurt. She longed to just rip the sling off and wave her arm around, it was stiff, the joint aching and throbbing in time to her pulse.

There was a 'clink' as Elliot tossed a pen into his pen mug. "All right. What is it."

"What is what?"

"You. You look like John just rearranged your phone list and you've been avoidant and ornery since we got here." Elliot leaned forward, his forearms resting on his desk. "Spill it. What's wrong?"

Olivia's shoulders sagged. Busted. She turned to her partner looking defeated. "I'm sorry," she apologized wearily. "It's just... the looks, the sympathy, everyone asking if they can do anything. You'd think a family member just died. It's been what, over three weeks since the junkyard? It's aggravating."

"We're a team, Olivia. Everyone around here cares."

"I don't want their pity," she replied hotly.

"It's not pity," he returned levelly. So this was why she'd been so curt with him since dinner last night. Why couldn't she just _tell_ him these things? "They're just concerned. You scared the hell out of us."

"I wish they'd stop."

He didn't have a chance to talk her out of her mood as Cragen came out of his office and approached the two of them. "What do either of you know about Chaumont?"

There was a moment of nothing, then Olivia spoke up. "Ranching community, isn't it? Near the state line?"

"Yeah." Something was sparking for Elliot too. "Yeah, up North. West-ish. Big horse breeders up there."

"Why?" Olivia inquired. They had no jurisdiction up there.

"I just got a call from the PD up in Watertown. A fire earlier this morning burned an estate up there to the ground. Multi-million dollar property, eleven racing horses dead. They're pretty sure it's arson."

"What d'they want us for?" Elliot shot a confused look at his partner, who just shrugged. "Why not just let ATF up there handle it, isn't that more up their arson division's road?"

"They're already there," Cragen appeased his bewilderment. "And they just found a body. Female, probably mid-twenties. Didn't get many details over the phone, but something they found's lead them to think she'd been sexually assaulted."

"What do they need us to do?" Benson asked.

"Warner's going up. Chopper's leaving in ten. She's had a little experience with arson cases. I called John and Fin, Fin's experience in narcotics could be useful to them, he's going to meet Warner on the tarmac." Cragen turned to Stabler. "Elliot I'd li--"

"Actually, Captain," Olivia interjected. She had no way of knowing what he'd been about to say, really, but she was not going to be pushed out of a chance to do something other than sit here and read and catalogue. "I'd like to volunteer to go up with Warner. It might be advantageous to have another SVU mind up there with Fin." She'd already felt like her skills had atrophied right along with the muscles in her left arm - she wasn't about to let them wither further away when an opportunity to flex them again had just been handed to her.

The captain stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "Elliot I'd like you to dig up what you can about the residents in Chaumont, see if any of them have any enemies, any reason someone might have to torch their ranch. Warner's on her mobile," he said to Olivia. She was already grabbing her coat and awkwardly sliding it on.

"Olivia no way." Elliot hadn't had the chance, till now, to protest his partner's suggestion. And he was going to now, dammit. Vehemently. It was ludicrous, sending her to an arson crime scene with one arm in a sling. Debris, uneven ground, hell just people not watching where they were going; she'd end up doing more damage than'd already been done.

"Elliot don't start with me," Olivia warned as she got the coat on and slid her scarf out of her locker. "I've been useless for three weeks now, I'm not just going to sit here." She grabbed her cell phone, stuffed it in her pocket, and left headquarters at a half-jog.

"Captain." Elliot turned to beseech his superior but the look on Cragen's face stopped him.

"Just let her go, Elliot." He'd sensed something Elliot had as well, but, unlike her partner, Cragen was more inclined to act on what he'd felt. Olivia needed to do this. Not just to prove to him that she could (like she'd ever needed to prove anything to him anyway)...but to prove it to herself. He turned and walked back into his office to continue what communication he could with Watertown PD.

Elliot huffed a frustrated breath. With a sweeping angry arc from his arm, he toppled an empty trash can from the top of a desk, sending it clanging to the hard floor as he passed and stormed back to his own desk.

Why wasn't anything ever easy?

**End Part 1**


	2. Storm Warnings

CHAPTER TITLE: "Storm Warnings"

PAIRINGS: None specified

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Language, some disturbing imagery, mention of rape.

SUMMARY: Dipping a little deeper behind the quiet genius of one of the less publicized members of the justice system

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm really trying to update more than weekly, but am super struggling this time. Please read 'n' review? I could really really use any suggestions or comments or even the flaming tomatoes with this one :D

**"Storm Warnings"**

**Monday Jan 13th**

**3:25 pm**

**Chaumont Ranching Community**

**Residence of Marcus Cain**

The Chaumont Ranching Community was typical rural New York. She'd been to places just like it hundreds of times, but Melinda Warner never got tired of how refreshing the countryside was to look at. Unlike the buzzing technology and the sharp angles of the architectural canyons of the inner city, the air here was quiet and the land was open and graceful. Gentle hills rose here and there throughout the landscape like lazy waves that refused to break upon land. Acres of green housed stables in which award wining thoroughbreds and magnificent mares were bred, and sprawling estates of granite and ground to roof pillars spoke whispers of a time when people had ideals and father fought son to uphold their own side of them. From the helicopter she and the two members of the SV unit who'd accompanied her here were in, one could almost believe the 20th century had not yet touched these lands. The ME was loathe to have to have the fantasy broken.

Red and white danced a bizarre tango of light as the Chinook's blades bent grass parallel to the ground and it set down next to three fire engines some 30 yards away from the still smoldering remainder of Marcus Cain's mansion. Tutuola was the first out. Reaching up, he took Warner's bag from her in one hand, helped Olivia jump down with the other, then offered the same hand to Melinda. He handed her black case bag back as she hopped out. The three of them bent low against the powerful beat of the helicopter's blades and jogged towards a huge white Pierce supertruck with government seals and ATF and EXPLOSIVES INVESTIGATION emblazoned on the side in vivid blue. The team leader on the scene was a young but burly man named Jason Bridger, and he extended his hand to Warner as the trio approached.

"Doctor Warner," he greeted pleasantly over the thump of massive rotors as the chopper lifted off and went back the way they'd come to refuel. He had worked cases with her before.

"Jason," the dark-haired woman returned, gripping his hand in a firm shake. "Detectives Fin Tutuola, Olivia Benson." She introduced her companions. "Manhattan Special Victims."

"Pleasure." He shook both their hands in turn. The wind from the blades died, the thumping faded, and he lowered his voice to a more normal decibel for speaking. "Can't say I'm glad to see you. Hate to have had to drag you up here. Watertown's just not specially manned enough to handle arson and sex crimes simultaneously."

"We're glad to help," Olivia said sincerely. She was glad to get away from the squad room, be useful, and to get out from under Elliot's overprotective shadow.

"You been briefed?" He directed at whomever decided to answer first.

Melinda nodded. "On the way." They'd been told of the conditions and now all three of them were dressed in reinforced waders and loaned out heavy NRT field jackets. There was no wind, but it was the middle of January and the air was bitter and clear.

"What can you tell us?" Asked Fin.

Bridger gestured with his arm and the foursome started walking, picking their way through black puddles and charred earth. "Fire started at around 11:45 this morning. Least that's when the house alarms went off. By the time the fire department got here the house was fully involved. They couldn't do much more than surround and drown. Was too windy for foam, not that it'd have done any good anyway. Nigel hit on CS2 about an hour ago."

"Nigel?"

"Arson dog," Bridger said with appreciation at the handsome black lab Warner could now see poking his head out the passenger window of an idling police sedan. "Carbon disulfide. Lucky for us, he don't hit on alcohol. There's about a thousand gallons of bourbon out here."

"Hell of a lot of hooch for just one guy," Fin remarked.

"Cain collected. Cigars, wine, vintage stuff, you name it. If it was worth cash, he wanted it." Bridger was pointing at things now. Lumps of furniture remains and dark pools of dangerous debris whose haphazard looking positioning meant nothing to either Olivia or Tutuola. "Fire started on the main floor, living room, and fifteen foot flames engaged the upper floors and roof. It was a fast, hot, fire. Upper floors would have fallen first, ground floor walls later, which is why you're seeing the insulation and beams and shit here."

The toe of Warner's steel reinforced boot caught on the edge of the carcass of a sofa that had been tossed aside by the NRT crew clearing the scene and Fin caught her elbow to right her. "Where was the body found?" She asked.

"Right over here." Jason directed them to a cordoned off area of black. "Basement is ground level."

"How deep?" The ME inquired of the thousands of gallons of pressurized water that had been dumped on the fantastical home and had done nothing to save it.

"Depends on where you're stepping. We've had the pumps going for hours now and the water level's barely dropped two feet." They stopped at the yellow tape. "Right above us is where the master bathroom would have been. We think she was there when the fire started. No one's touched her since she was found," he informed them all, though looking at Warner.

"In situ?" She asked. Or, 'as is'.

"Yes ma'am. Nothing's been moved."

"Where is Mr. Cain?" Olivia asked as Warner stepped under the tape. It'd been bugging her since first arriving. She wouldn't look at the remains of the stables near the back of the property.

"No one knows. He wasn't here though. Car wasn't in the garage, no known numbers other than the home phone."

"None of his neighbors have missed him?" Fin asked.

Bridger shrugged. "Those the local PD've talked to said they never knew when he was home or not. Bit of a recluse. Liked his privacy." The agent looked over his shoulder as, over the sound of dripping water and the pumps disgorging their filthy cargo onto the ruined front lawn, his name was called. "I'll leave you to it," he said with a nod and then was gone.

"What d'we got?" Fin lifted the tape and Olivia crouched down next to Warner after ducking under it.

"Well I can understand why they thought she'd been sexually assaulted." She lifted the sheet that had been draped over the body to preserve it until she arrived.

"Jesus," Benson muttered, stunned at what she saw.

Milky dead eyes of what had once been a human being stared sightlessly at the mid-winter sky. The eyes were a washed out dull gray because whatever their original color had been had been cooked out of them. What might have been a glass shower door had toppled over the body, saving at least part of it from the flames. The hands and arms were gone, but leather boots had protected the girl's feet. What was left of her buttocks and pelvis was nude and the shirt melted into charred flesh had obviously been ripped down the front. Bits of what had probably been a curtain of some kind were snarled through dark red hair that drifted out around her partially burned away face in soupy dark water, framing what had probably been rather striking features in an eerie halo of desecration.

"Any idea of her age?" Olivia asked after a moment.

"I wouldn't want to swear it in court until I examine her more closely," Warner said. She put away a measuring gauge. "But because of the width of the cervical orbit here," she pointed. "I am willing to swear she's never given birth." She paused for a moment, considering. She looked up at her the two officers then shook her head. "I'm betting younger than the estimate we got over the phone. A lot younger," she speculated and hoped that the carbon monoxide had gotten to her before the flames had touched her skin. "Thirteen? Fifteen at most."

"Shit," Fin murmured. Not a lot bothered the ex-narcotics officer. Except, Warner had noticed over the years, when it was kids. He turned away and ducked under the tape.

The two women let him go and were silent. Warner continued her external exam. Time of death would be impossible to determine. Calculating it by comparing the internal body temperature against the temperature of the environment was useless for two reasons. One, the body had just been burned through and two, it was lying in a puddle of freezing fetid water. Neither reading would be accurate. All she could note with certainty was that she'd been alive when the smoke had hit her. She had to have been; soot was clogged in her nostrils and, from what the doctor could see of the partially open lips, her mouth as well. A victim did not inhale smoke if they weren't breathing. Skillfully moving gloved hands over charred flesh, Melinda examined the girl more closely as best she could under the conditions. The skin near the left upper occipital orbit was split as was the skin at the crest of the cheekbone below it. This part of her face had been closest to the searing glass that had fallen against her. One had to be careful not to jump to any assumptions in situations like this - you could easily mistake disfigurations like these for injuries of violence if you were not familiar with the artifacts of fire. Skin behaved as any other elasticity based organic matter would when heated...it would expand as it cooked and then split. Like chicken baking in the oven. She worked carefully, jotting down notes and photographing what she could to preserve evidence that would not survive the trip back to her morgue.

**4:50 pm**

Olivia continued to stare out over the blackened wreckage of Cain's life here. Bridger was some distance away turning the disaster site into a classroom for his soon-to-be Certified Fire Investigators. There was a faint ringing and it was several seconds before the detective realized it was coming from the inside pocket of the heavy down jacket she'd been loaned. With minor difficulty she dug it out with her one arm and flipped it open. She ducked her other ear closer to her slinged shoulder so she could hear.

"Benson."

"Liv."

"Elliot." She put her thumb over the mouthpiece. 'Elliot' she mouthed at Fin who'd looked at her with the question in his expression. "Hi," she said back into the phone and turned her back to the crime scene to speak to him.

"All right, I'm going to need some help over here," Warner began saying. The ensuing lifting and bagging directions she began issuing some of Bridger's men faded onto Benson's mental back burner as she focused on the phone call.

"How's it goin up there?" Stabler rested one hand on his hip as he spoke. He could hear the sound of pipes, engines, other people slogging through water. A dog was barking faintly.

"Devastated, Elliot," she said, her voice slightly disjointed as it came across through her mobile. "There's nothing left. Place is completely destroyed. I can't even look at the stables."

"What's the word on the body?" He had to move his hand from his hip to his ear just to hear her against the sounds of the squad room around him.

"Warner's still looking it over. They've moved it to the bus. She's younger than the guys up here'd estimated to Cragen. We're thinking not even out of high school. Fin's pissed."

He nodded though she couldn't see. "Uh huh. How're you doin?"

A static-broken sigh. "Elliot--"

"Just askin." He backed off as fast as he could. He could hear her annoyed eye-roll through the phone line and was secretly pleased. He worried, and it bugged the living hell out of her. He crossed toned arms over a broad chest. "Listen, John and I are doin some digging back here on this guy, Cain. John's in a fantastic mood, by the way. The heat's still off. Thanks for ditching me for him. I hope it's freezing."

Huff. "Point?"

"Nadda. No one seems to know anything about him prior to about three years ago, when he moved to Chaumont. We're gonna need more to go on h--"

"Just a sec." It sounded like she pulled away from the phone a second. He looked at the clock as he heard her say something to someone near her. He couldn't hear what was said. "Yeah, El. Hold that thought. I'll get back to you." He heard the 'beep' before he'd even opened his mouth to protest.

"Yeah," he said sardonically to the dull toning receiver in his hand. "I'll just wait here." He none too gently clattered it back onto its cradle and rolled his neck in irritation.

Olivia flipped her phone closed and turned her attention back to Fin and the agent who had initially drawn her away from her conversation with her partner. "What's up?"

"We got problems." Fin's expression was dark, his left hand clenched in his right fist.

"My excavation team just found something in what used to be the den you might be interested in," Bridger said. Lifting a leather gloved hand, the agent beckoned over one of his officers. Brackish black water sloshed over already rancid smelling waders as the younger man half-trotted over to them.

Olivia tugged an errant strand of her reddish-brown hair behind her right ear as she took what the other man offered out to her. She stared at it, not comprehending...or not wanting to. Then her posture sagged in a grief she couldn't readily articulate. "God," she murmured. "Call Cragen," she sent wearily at Fin, who nodded and pulled his own phone out. She re-opened her flip phone and dialed Elliot while she looked out across the now darkening landscape and watched as Warner directed the contingent of Bridger's men she'd commandeered to help her.

"Stabler."

"Yeah, El. It's me."

"Nice of you to c--"

"Shut up Elliot." She didn't have the time or the patience for his bad attitude right now. "It's getting dark, I'm tired, and yes, it is freezing. You're wasting your time looking for this guy around here," she informed him. "Call Raleigh PD."

"Raleigh?" He puzzled from the other end.

"Yes, Elliot. North Carolina."

"I know where the hell Raleigh is," he snapped back. Her mood was rubbing off and only making his already foul mood worse. He began flipping through a phone directory on his desk. "Why am I calling them? Warner thinking that body is some missing persons case of theirs?"

"No." Olivia looked down and ran her gloved fingers over the tarnished soot-slippery metal of the item in her hand. "ATF just found a badge." She closed her fist around said badge and looked angrily around her as if she might spot the asshole responsible for the carnage nearby and bring him down with the look alone.

"Cain's a damn cop."

**Tuesday Jan 14th**

**7:20 am**

**Precinct**

Elliot looked across the path down the middle of the squad room at the person sitting in the desk just opposite him there. Her own eyes were aimed at the television in the corner. News of the Chaumont fire was the top story. They were nosy and efficient bastards and everything about Cain's life was on display. They'd dug up everything. He'd worked homicide in Raleigh for thirty years and three years ago had retired and moved to Chaumont to pursue his affair with horses and racing. He'd not wanted his career to follow him, so he'd had his old department seal his records, had changed his appearance, and told everyone he'd met in Watertown he'd been worked on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico just off New Orleans.

As the case had been Watertown's first and then passed on to the Special Victims Unit with the discovery of the girl's body, the two jurisdictions had, together, done the rest of the digging and fortunately, what Elliot was looking at now was not made available to the media. Cain had had enemies. He'd helped put dozens of convicted felons away in his time...most of them hard-core killers well on their way to going serial. For every friend those he'd pulled off the street made in prison, he'd made another enemy. Speculation based on more evidence recovered was that one of these dangerous alliances had taken their sick perception of justice into their own hands.

"Sick."

Stabler looked up. Several officers from around the precinct had stopped or paused to watch the news story as they passed the television. It did not seem to matter where in the world it was, if a member of any type of law enforcement met with tragedy, the pain reverberated.

"It's just sick."

"Welcome to life, Jay," John muttered no looking up from the folder on his desk. "Here's your psychopath for the day. Do not pass Go, do not collect two-hundred dollars."

"How you can you be so fucking callous?" Officer Jay Wheylan turned from the screen to stare at Munch. "A cop gets his house torched just because he arrests someone decades ago and you crack jokes? He probably didn't even figure it out, just slapped the damn handcuffs on and called it a day."

"I'm not callous. I'm realistic."

Wheylan was middle aged and fit. Single as far as anyone knew, and fairly well-liked. He worked what they called the 'Bust-Beat.' If a bust went down, they went with. Prostitution, narcotics, counterfeit, firearms, they helped with it all. He'd seen his share of evil. Even still, Olivia knew sometimes things just caught up to a person and most times, what and when didn't make sense to everyone. She was a little gentler in her response to the man.

"It's what happens, Jay," she said quietly. "We just do the best we can. Let's just be grateful Cain wasn't home when it went up, ok, and not dwell on the specifics."

Wheylan didn't seem at all placated by this. Huffing a glare at the television and muttering a dark insult John's way, he stormed from the squad room. Elliot knew that look. That storm would take a while to blow over.

No one, however, not even the most cynical, could have anticipated what else at that very moment was being uncovered in the morgue just across the parking terrace.

**7:20 am**

**County coroner's building, office of M.E. Warner**

The Y incision on what was left of the body from Chaumont was made swiftly and expertly. Doctor Melinda Warner was the last person the people of New York who came through her doors would ever speak to in a language that mattered. She had held countless conversations with the dead before now, and the discussion she was about to have no would be no different. Attention to detail would be absolute, the margin for misinterpretation reduced to zero, and the secrets uncovered in the ensuing morbid question and answer would reveal things more than just valuable to the living left behind.

The PERK before the scalpel had graced ruined flesh had been meticulous. Warner had leaned over the remains with tweezers, a Luma-Lite, a stack of Post-It notes, and a handful of plastic baggies at her disposal. Fibers that didn't belong to the shirt the girl was wearing were collected with tweezers and debris near her hairline, Melinda'd adhered to the glue of the back of a Post-It and sealed the sticky note inside a baggie. There were no hands from which to collect skin or hair which might have become lodged underneath fingernails in a struggle. She had been raped, of this Warner had been sure. The tearing of the skin around the vagina and deep tissue bruising of the cervix was unmistakable evidence of that particular act of violence. Sexual assault was no longer a theory, it was fact.

What Warner found inside was nothing she had not expected. The liver was pliable and healthy, the lungs were clear, save the smoke she'd inhaled before she'd died, and the pericardium was strong and intact. The gastric contents consisted of a thin brownish liquid, and the stomach itself was shrunken and tubular, suggesting she'd not eaten anything solid within 12 hours prior to her death.

Next a clean incision was made at the hairline moving from temple to temple across the forehead. The skin of the girl's face was folded down and over her chin like a Halloween mask and Warner gently began to palpate around the facial bones. The hemorrhage she'd seen near the left temporal area of the eye had origin now. There was blood in the back of the girl's throat and on the left side of her head was a spiderweb fracture the size of Warner's palm. She had been struck in the head, most likely with some kind of blunt and angular object. She had been alive when the smoke had reached her, and this is what had eventually killed her, but this head injury had completely incapacitated her first. Whether the sexual violation had occurred before or after she'd been struck was unclear.

The girl had spoken. Warner had listened and she her diagnosis. The only thing she could not tell the courts was the girl's identity because thus far Marcus Cain could not be reached for questioning. She pulled the clear plastic safety goggles down and let them hang by their strap around her chest.

"Christine, you want to suture this for me?" Warner rubbed at the small of her back and asked the lab tech that had been dictating during the entire post.

"Sure Doctor Warner." Christine Harper was olive-skinned, twenty-five and extremely gifted. She'd only been employed by the state now for two years, but she had made her mark and Melinda was glad to have her.

Unlacing the bloodied yellow protective gown and pulling stained latex gloves inside out on themselves, Warner wadded them up and tossed both items into a biohazard bag.

"Doc?"

Warner turned to the other member of her staff helping her this morning. Dante was older than Christine and had been with Melinda for years. Ever since she'd taken over from her predecessors here. He was just as gifted as Christine, but had more of a compassionate side to his clinicism than the other woman did.

"The tox screen and the rest of the labs came back about twenty minutes ago," he reported as he began taking the instruments off the tray an sanitizing them. "They're on your desk."

"Thank you Dante." Warner offered one of her customary gentle quiet smiles and headed back that direction. Because of the nature of the case, the tests had been expedited and the results rushed. The people upstairs must have worked through the night to get them back to her so fast. She folded into her chair and flipped through the folders.

The tox screen confirmed one of the suspicions that had already been niggling the back of Warner's mind. The tissue samples had tested positive for Rohypnol, more commonly known as the date-rape drug. Every other test came back negative. The girl had been clean. No evidence of drug abuse or alcoholism. Next Warner held up the DNA file.

And frowned.

She'd seen this pattern before.

Thanks to the DNA record Raleigh PD had faxed the night before, she now had that profile sitting in front of her. She compared the two. Laying the two x-ray film looking profiles flat on her desk, Melinda picked up her phone and rested her elbow on the wood. A moment later an irritated male voice answered the other end.

"Stabler."

"How much do you love me?"

A pause. "Depends. What can you give me?"

"Cain's Jane Doe's identity for starters."

Elliot dropped his feet from his desk and sat up straight. "Doc, I'm gonna have your children."

Olivia's head jerked around to look at him. The expression on her face mirrored the expression now being worn on the faces of John and Fin. None of them had a sure way of knowing to whom he was speaking, though, because of the word 'doc' they could about guess. They watched him for several seconds as he listened to whatever Warner was telling him and then gazed at him expectantly after he hung up.

"That was Doc Warner. We know who the body in Marcus Cain's master bathroom was."

"Well?" Cragen, who had now joined them, nodded his head as if Elliot needed permission or an invitation to inform them.

"Who?" Olivia pushed almost at the same time.

"His daughter," Elliot stated blankly, though anyone who knew him could sense the anger underneath. "The girl is his daughter."

Silence hung around them for a second. Then Captain Cragen sighed.

"Christ."

**End Part 2**


	3. The Leading Edge

CHAPTER TITLE: "The Leading Edge"

PAIRINGS: None specified

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Language.

SUMMARY: A storm was brewing on the horizon, but forecasts are almost never accurate. Almost.

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So sorry for taking so long to update. Thanks go to my friend Tammy for giving me the mental laxative I needed to clear the blockage  Ideas are still brewing, am I good to go to keep going with 'em?

**"The Leading Edge"**

**Wednesday Jan 15th  
9:40 am  
Precinct**

"Captain." Fin watched as Cragen strode into the squad room from his office. He had a numb-ish look on his face and probably could have done with taking an Ativan last night and just not come in at all today. In all likelihood, he hadn't even gone home. "Look like you could use a crash up in the crib," he said of the four cots they had in a room upstairs. His brow creased. "How late were you here last night?"

"Uff...Is it morning?" The older man asked rubbing his face with both hands.

"Nine and a half bright and happy hours into it." Munch announced merrily as he came into headquarters, shook snow from his coat and draped it on its hook on the wall.

"And you're exactly.." Cragen looked at his watch. "...forty minutes of that late." He finished looking at Fin reprovingly as though Tutuola were responsible for keeping tabs on his partner after hours. "I trust you have a suitable explanation." He put his hands in his pockets and waited.

Glowering darkly, his eyes furrowed, Fin flung a handful of the mini M&M's he'd been nibbling on at John in reproach as his older partner took his seat.

"Indeed I do," John said and leaned back in the rolling chair. Unfazed by the hail of candy bullets, he nonchalantly swept a green M&M off his desk and laced his hands over his stomach. "Buddy of mine from homicide has a cousin in homicide down in North Carolina. He was going to pull some strings, see if he could charm his way into getting Cain's former boss to open up about the guy. He owed me a favor. Called just as I was out the door. Was on the phone with him before coming in."

"Mr. Popular," Fin muttered, still annoyed.

"I tried to call ahead with the head's up, but the line's been busy all morning," John continued unabated.

Cragen nodded. "I've been in phone meetings with Raleigh PD since five," he explained. "They want the girl's body transferred."

None of the men said anything. Legally it wasn't right, the case was theirs. Had become theirs when Watertown PD had called them onto the scene and then handed rights to the body to Warner. But...the kid was the daughter of one of their cops. They were each considering how it would affect them if situations were swapped and another state had just told them the sexually assaulted body of one of Elliot Stabler's daughters had been found in the gutted remains of his home.

"What did your buddy have to say?" Cragen moved on and away from that topic. "Why didn't anyone down there know about this daughter?"

"Because Cain never told anyone but his captain that he'd ever had kids. Name's Angela, by the way," John supplied. "His marriage was blown; he and his wife had divorced just before he'd moved up to Watertown."

"Anyone think it's a bit messed up that no one's heard from mom yet?" Fin asked. "Ex-husband's home goes up in flames and she don't even call to see if he's okay?"

"Wasn't the mother. Step-mother. A real drop-kick apparently. Didn't like the daughter at all, was never home, cheated left and right," John elaborated. "She moved to Florida after the divorce and no one's heard from her since. Biological mother died from ovarian cancer when Angela was three. She lived with a friend's family while dad was working. Those who saw her with him, he told she was his niece."

"Bizarre," Cragen mused. To each his own. "No other family?" He pumped for more information.

"Marcus only had one sibling. A brother. Died when he was twenty-five. Parents are dead, no other children but Angela." John shrugged. "Considering the line of work he was in, he wanted Angela kept as tight a secret as possible."

"Dig." Cragen pointed a finger at John. "A child kept that secluded doesn't just wind up with her head bashed in and lying sexually assaulted in her dad's master bathroom. Let's find out who leaked this secret and to whom." The media, thankfully, was withholding the release of Angela's identity pending contact with Cain.

"I don't think it was aggravated sexual assault."

The men's eyes turned to the doorway, where Melinda Warner strode through holding a manila envelope in one hand and still wearing her coat from the trek across the parking terrace. "I tried to call, but couldn't get through."

John chuckled as Cragen frowned.

"It might not have been rape either," she went on and handed the folder to the captain. "Statutory definitely, but not forced sexual intercourse."

"I thought you said.."

"Oh I know what I said," Melinda said with a small smile. "But after Elliot's phone call I examined her again a little more closely to confirm the story before I got the samples from Watertown. The tearing I found can just as easily be explained by skin splitting from the intense heat because, and I'm sorry gentlemen," she looked at all of them, "no man is that big. The cervical bruising was most likely caused because he was a little thicker than she was wide."

"Wait." Cragen held a finger at her. "What story, what phone call?" He turned to look at Elliot for an explanation ... and for the first time this morning noticed that both his desk and Olivia's were empty of their detectives. "Where the hell are they?" He flustered.

"It was the exciting conclusion of my story," John said with a sardonic smile. "Was just getting to the good part when I was so politely interrupted." Warner just returned the smile he tossed her way with just as much snark. "They left at seven. Watertown called Olivia about six-thirty this morning when a man came into their station after hearing about the fire. Elliot called the station and when he couldn't get through to your office, he called Warner, and then me at home. Angela had a little love affair. The man was her boyfriend, eighteen. He admitted to being there that morning, and having had consensual sex with her. Watertown's sending Romeo's DNA samples, and Starsky and Hutch are on their way up to finish interviewing him."

There was a pause, and then Cragen huffed a confounded breath. "Why am I always the last to know?"

**3:25 pm  
Adirondack Northway (Interstate 87)**

They had just spent two hours interviewing the boyfriend of Cain's dead daughter...and the fact that they were in another county's precinct was about as eventful as the trip had gotten. Nothing Derick Allen had told them had thrown up any red flags. Since they got no reception through the canyon, they'd called Cragen before leaving to fill him in.

The man was so devastated when he'd learned of the fire that the first question he'd asked when the Watertown detectives had interviewed him was what he had to do to prove his story so they could concentrate faster on finding the real person responsible. He and Angela had been seeing each other for about two months. He'd not known she was underage because she hadn't told him and they'd not been together long enough for him dig that deep. They'd kept the relationship a secret, Angela's idea, and their courtship consisted of late nights spent sneaking out windows and meeting in lucrative locations. He admitted freely to having had sex with her the morning of the fire. Early morning, he'd said, around six. Cain was away and they wanted time together without subterfuge. They'd made breakfast together afterwards and then he left the house at twenty to eleven to be to work at eleven-thirty. The local police had already called his employer and Derick had shown up on time and in normal spirits. The local crime scene investigation unit was still combing both the remains of the home and Derick's apartment for anything they could use to poke holes in the story.

The drive to and from Watertown was about three hours longer, but much prettier than the flight in the Chinook had been. The highway wound its way lazily through the Adirondack Mountains and a recent snowstorm in this region had left the world a blazing white blanket that, other than on pavement, would not thaw for months. The late afternoon sun glared harshly off the sides of hills that rose gradually but gracefully away from the road and even though the light didn't grace the road, Elliot and Olivia had to keep their sunglasses on and the car's visors down.

"Breger sent the DNA profile to Warner before we came?" Olivia broke the silence in the car cautiously - Jamie Breger was Watertown's police chief.

"Yep."

She stole a glance to her left. Elliot was staring straight out the windshield, his jaw tight, his shoulders tense. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something was wrong with her partner. He'd been quiet and withdrawn the whole way up and now here on the drive home and she didn't want to spark an argument she wasn't prepared to win. She looked back out her own window. Glanced at her watch. "It's creeping up on four, you wanna stop and grab something to eat?"

An irritated sigh. "No."

Olivia rested her elbow on the edge of the window and rubbed her forehead with two fingers. It was like playing 20-Questions; she had to initiate any talk and had to pry every answer out of him. She waited five minutes and then spoke again. "How're Kathy and the kids?"

"Liv.."

"It's another hour and a half back to Manhattan, Elliot." Benson looked back at him and was losing patience. "I'm just trying to make a little conversation here."

"Don't make conversation," he snapped.

"What is with you?" She asked.

"Nothing." He worked his jaw, a vein pulsing in his temple.

"Okay y'know what?" She shifted in her seat to face him a little more square. "I'm sick of sitting here like I'm the only one in this car. It's been an hour and you've not said a word. Not about the case, not about anything, and when you DO answer me it's in single syllable sentences. Either pretend you can stand being in the same car as your partner, or stop the damn car and I'll call a cab."

There was a pause. And then Stabler sighed and rubbed his eyes under his sunglasses. "I'm sorry," he muttered, and meant it. He'd not meant to be snappish and confrontational, least of all to her. "I'm just...I dunno, wound up."

"You think?"

He looked her way, at the annoyed and slightly wounded look on her face, and suddenly felt bad. Here they were in the middle of a two and a half hour car ride that was probably hell on her shoulder, and he'd been too wrapped up in his own self-angst to consider that the drive was just as uncomfortable for her...and made worse so by his attitude during it. He offered a sheepish smile and reached out to turn the radio off. Not that either of them'd been paying attention to it.

"Internal Affairs paid me a visit last night," he began, his attention now back in the present. "At home even."

Olivia frowned. "Why? What do they have to do with this investigation?"

"Nothing," he replied. "That's just it. Has nothing to do with what's happening here. The psych rep wanted to talk about other cases. Past cases. John Hawkins, Fenyak, y'know, bunch of old cases that'd gotten me really worked up." He looked briefly to his right...and his eyes narrowed. Olivia had an odd look on her face and she was staring out the windshield instead of in his direction.

"What about them did they want to talk about?" She asked slowly, still not looking at him.

He watched her for a second, unsettled by her sudden change in demeanor, then looked away and shrugged. "How I'd handled them. During interrogations and stuff. Guy was a real asshole, too. Gave me this self-righteous spiel about anger management and all this other crap."

Benson nodded, but turned and looked out her window and didn't say anything.

"They're talking bi-monthly evaluations," he added with a disgusted snort.

She hesitated, then said softly, "Maybe that's not such a bad idea as it sounds."

"What?" His gaze bounced between her and his focus on the road in front of him. "What does that mean?"

"Doesn't mean anything," Olivia objected quickly. Argument sparked; she was in it for the long haul now.

He frowned. "You think I need counseling?"

"No, I..."

"That's it isn't it?"

"I didn't say that," Olivia protested. "I'm just saying, maybe twice a month isn't that bad a suggestion. Generally," she added as if it might help her case to broaden the scope. "Hell, maybe the whole precinct should get shrunk out that often. They're there for a reason."

"Yeah whatever," Elliot retorted and focused again on the road. "They don't do squat, and I get enough of them once every three months." He paused for a moment, his brain churning. "You hate the rat squad as much as I do, Liv. Why're you suddenly going to bat for their smug agendas?"

Olivia laughed. "I am not 'going to bat' for them. I just said--"

"...that you think I need to be psychoanalyzed," he interrupted her with maybe a little too much stinging accusation to his tone.

"That's not fair. You're putting words in my mouth."

"Then why'd you bring it up?"

"Elliot--" She shook her head and paused to take a breath. Speaking of tempers...one detective was about to lose control over hers. "Let's just drop it okay? It was just a comment. You're getting defensive now and when you get like this nothing I say gets through. We've still got an hour, I don't want to fight."

"I just wanna know wh--"

"Stabler I swear to God, if you say another word I'm getting out of this car and walking."

Elliot stared again out the windshield and Olivia turned her face to her window. Twenty minutes passed and Stabler glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "It's four-thirty." His voice was quiet, his turn to be cautious. "We stopping for dinner?"

"No."

**5:10 pm  
Precinct**

The two parted ways the moment they set foot in the station and they couldn't get away from one another fast enough. Elliot went straight back towards the squad room, Olivia made a bee-line for the break room. They hadn't stopped for dinner. She'd not eaten since breakfast that morning and she could feel her blood-sugar plummeting towards China. She pulled some change out of her pockets and a second later was pulling an orange juice and a Snicker's bar from the vending machines.

"Detective."

She straightened, 'dinner' in hand, and smiled. "Hey Jay."

Jay Wheylan from the Bust-Beat..the officers on the squad had been nicknamed 'BBs' by the precinct..opened the fridge and pulled out a can of soda that had a sticky note with his name on it taped to the side. It fizzed and hissed as he popped the flip lid.

Olivia sank into one of the chairs at the dinky card-table in the corner. She'd eat here; she couldn't fathom being in the same room as her partner right now. "Calling it a night?" She asked as the other officer punched his pin number into the clockout program on the little computer on the desk against the wall.

"Yup. Mom's birthday," he said and smiled. "Taking her and dad out for dinner."

"Nice." She peeled the wrapper back on the Snicker's.

"How's the arm?" He nodded at it, still strapped in its sling.

She looked down as if she'd forgotten what was wrong with it - it'd been strung up for so long now, she felt anyway, it didn't surprise her she'd gotten that used to it. "It's good," she answered, deciding she didn't have the energy to be perturbed with another person asking over it. "Doctors should cut me loose in another couple days," she added and opened her orange juice.

Wheylan nodded firmly. "Good to hear. You scared people."

She quirked an eyebrow. "So I've heard." She closed her eyes and drank deeply.

He stared at her a second, then cocked his head. "No offence Detective Benson, but you look like you could do with calling it a night yourself."

Olivia chuckled and swallowed another mouthful. "None taken. That bad?"

A somewhat shy smile spread across his handsome features and he nodded. "Long day?" He pulled out a chair and sat across from her. He was in no hurry - he'd just clocked out.

She shook her head and rolled her neck. "And I'm only half-way through it."

"Chaumont case not coming together?"

"Not the way we thought," she replied and took a bite of the Snickers. God, she knew she was hungry; it tasted fabulous. She popped an Ibuprofen she'd had waiting in her suit jacket pocket, wanting the numbing more for her head than her shoulder as prescribed.

Wheylan shook his head. "You know, it all makes me so damn angry."

"What's that," Olivia obliged wearily between chewing. Her nerves were slowly untwisting.

"The fact that the perp always goes after the cop!" A flush crept up his neck. "I mean think about it. We don't really do anything. We look at the scenes, we rough a few people up in the interrogation rooms..."

"We put guys like this behind bars all the time, Jay it just takes time. We'll find him."

"Yeah, but that's what I'm talking about!" He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, like he was about to share some deep secret with her. "We put them away, physically we shove them in...but we're not what gets them there. We wouldn't put half the perps away that we do if we didn't get our information from people like Warner and the science geeks next door. Autopsies, CSU, we always get our cases solved from them first, basically spoon-fed to us. All we cops do is slap the handcuffs on and recite legality. I'm not the only one who thinks this."

Olivia looked at him silently for a second. She'd never thought about it like that before. He had a point, but.. His vehemence on the subject was a little unsettling. "We can't know what goes on inside the heads of the assholes we lock up," she finally said hoping to placate his passion. "Maybe it's because they don't see what goes on behind the scenes, all they see is the person involved directly. The cops, the prosecutors." She shrugged and drained off her orange juice. "We're a team. It's what we get for doing what we do. Part of the job."

"I wish we could make the perps see that though, y'know? Make 'em realize we get our information from other sour--"

A hand slapping on the doorframe of the break room interrupted his rant and the two looked to their left to see Elliot skid to a stop and lean in. "Hey Jay, sorry," he apologized for his intrusion and looked at Benson. "Can I talk to you a second?"

Taking the cue, Jay stood and pushed his chair in. "Detectives," he nodded at them both in turn and then left the room.

Olivia spoke first. "Elliot, I'm not in the mood."

"Liv, can the estrogen will you? Raleigh PD just called Cragen. They got a hold of Cain an hour ago, on a plane from Miami; he just landed. He'll be here in ten minutes."

Argument forgotten and animosity vanishing for the moment, Olivia tossed her empty juice can in the trash and jogged after Elliot through the station back to the squad room. Her Snickers lay half-eaten and abandoned in the middle of the table.

**5:45 pm  
Interrogation Room 1**

Marcus Cain was fit for his age. Tanned arms were tone beneath a casual blue Polo; a black lambskin jacket sat next to him on the table. His short sandy brown hair was graying handsomely at the temples and round glasses over startling blue eyes were a perfect balance to his long face. He did not look like a man in his fifties.

"Mr. Cain, I am so sorry for your loss." Donald Cragen set a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the table.

Olivia and Cragen both sat across from him in the interrogation room. Olivia because out of the four detectives working the case she was by far the most openly compassionate, Cragen because he was a father about the same age and professional position as the stricken man before them. He'd been away on vacation and couldn't be contacted because he hadn't wanted to be. The only phone number he could have been reached at, he'd left with Angela. He'd already identified his daughter's body, what was left of it, and now the hard questions would come. As callous as it sounded in cases like these, grieving would have to wait.

Olivia spoke next, gently. "We're doing everything we can to find the person responsible," she promised him honestly, because they were. "But we're short on solid leads. We need your help."

Cain took a breath. "The uh...God, I didn't even know she was seeing anyone." His thoughts were disjointed. They let him ramble in whichever direction his mind took them. "This Derick...there's no way he's responsible?"

Cragen had been on the phone with Warner when Elliot and Olivia had returned from Watertown. "The DNA our ME found inside Angela matches the samples from Derick Watertown PD sent us," he explained. "His story's ringing pretty sincere. CSU's not been able to find anything in his possession that might account for her head injury and nothing else has been recovered to tie him to the fire. Because of the age issue, Watertown can hold and book him on a statutory rape charge...but he's looking less and less like our arsonist."

"After my partner called your captain, he told me he'd said you had enemies," Olivia took over. "Is there anyone you can think of specifically that might have had a big enough grudge against you to go after you and your daughter?"

"I uh..no one knew about her." He looked up and smiled sadly. "I wanted to keep her safe. She was only going to be staying with me for a couple of months, just visiting, then she was going to go back to North Carolina. She had horses down there too. She loved riding."

"Anyone you can think of, no matter how insignificant you think it might sound, would be helpful." Cragen skillfully but carefully steered the man back towards a topic that might get them closer to solving this.

Marcus sniffed and took a shaky sip of his coffee while he thought. He set the cup down. "There uh...yeah, there were a couple maybe. Andrew Hedges. Jordan Biers."

Cragen turned to look out the one-way glass. Elliot jotted the names down, then handed the pad to Fin who nodded, handed one name to John, and both men went quickly back out into the squad room.

"You know," Marcus was continuing, his voice oddly distorted through the intercom on the wall. "Most the guys we lock up down there are too seasoned to care about serving time. Been in and out of prison most their lives. It's the young ones, the first timers, that get vindictive. And over such stupid petty charges..." His composure suddenly shifted and, like rocks on a hill balanced too precariously, slid away from him. He slid his glasses off and put his hand over his face as his shoulders started to shake.

Cragen looked at Olivia who nodded back. This interview was over. "Mr. Cain, I assure you we'll look into this," Don said firmly. "We've got our best people on it. The names you've given us could prove invaluable."

Marcus Cain didn't seem to care. He put his glasses back on. "Did she suffer?" He asked quietly as all three of them stood and made for the door.

Elliot watched Benson share a look with the captain. "No," she answered truthfully. "She was already unconscious. Doctor Warner assured us that regardless of the head injury, the carbon monoxide would have overcome her first. She wouldn't have felt anything."

They left the interrogation room and stopped next to Elliot as Cragen walked the man out through the rest of the precinct. "God I feel so sorry for him," she sighed.

Elliot nodded. "I feel worse for the son of a bitch responsible once we find him," he murmured. Olivia chuckled softly.

"Maybe we ought to sic Jay on him."

"Jay?" Elliot puzzled and looked at her quizzically.

"Mm. Our little conversation in the break room? He's still pissed over this case. He'd probably rough the guy up worse than even you," she ribbed.

Elliot knew she was teasing him good-naturedly, but for some reason, probably because the two had been all but at each other's throats most of yesterday and all of today, it rubbed him wrong and he took it personally. He just shook his head and didn't respond as they moved out into the squad room proper.

Fin was leaning back in his chair rubbing his eyes with the heels of both hands and John was just hanging up his phone when Cragen came back in. "What've you got for me on those names?" He asked neither man directly.

"Nadda," Munch replied, standing and going for his coat. "Raleigh's system is down. The servers crashed about an hour ago. Their network administrators are still working on it, but they don't think it'll be back up anytime before tomorrow morning."

"Fantastic." Cragen shook his head and the rest of his detectives went through their own various end-of-day rituals. As frustrating as it was to be this close only to be pushed back, all they could do was wait until morning.

Two steps forward, one step back.

**End Part 3**


	4. Meltdown

CHAPTER TITLE: "Meltdown"

PAIRINGS: None specified

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Language.

SUMMARY: Hot and cold don't mix, and when forced to collide under pressure the rebound _can_ have catastrophic consequences.

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Shorter one than the others, I know, but I had to break the original Chap 4 up a bit because it was huge. Please review if you get a spare moment :)

**"Meltdown"**

**Thursday Jan 16th  
7:07 am  
Precinct**

"You're here bright and early." Olivia draped her coat on its hook by her locker and moved to her desk. "Thought you weren't coming in till seven-thirty." Elliot was at his desk, with his head on his arms. He didn't reply. Munch and Fin weren't going to be in until eight, so the two were alone at the moment.

Benson sat and looked across at him. Two minutes passed and he still hadn't said anything. "Good morning to you too," she murmured dryly and flipped on her computer.

"That's a matter of opinion."

She stole a glance to her left - his head had come off his desk and he had a sour expression on his face. It was going to be a long day if he was in this foul a mood this early. "You look like Cragen does when John makes the coffee," she quipped in an attempt to scatter the tension already present. She put her elbows on her desk as her monitor beeped at them and Windows booted up. "You wanna talk?"

Elliot sighed irritably and looked across at her. Then his forehead creased. "You're missing something."

"I'm what?"

"Something's different." He nodded at her chest.

Making a face, Olivia looked down...and then realized what he'd meant and flushed. "Oh. Yeah. My appointment was last night. I talked my doctor into cutting me loose a few days early," she explained with a smile. Her sling was gone and it was wonderful to be able to move both arms like a normal human being again. "Light duty's been upgraded to moderate," she went on. "As long as I don't fire anything with much kick, I'm good to go."

"Good," he said without the feeling behind it.

"Soooo," she prodded carefully.

"So what?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"I didn't want to," he replied petulantly. He so didn't want to go into it again. Not with her.

"Elliot," Olivia sighed in frustration. "We've got an entire work day ahead of us, I don't want to spend it bickering. Can you please pretend to at least be able to tolerate your partner and let us have a normal conversation?"

"Internal Affairs paid me another visit," he muttered. "I don't know what the hell it is with them this month," he groused. "They're still pushing for those damn evaluations. They're giving me the weekend to think it over before they talk to Cap." He looked to his left. Olivia was chewing on her lower lip, her head bent and her eyes studying her fingers.

"What?" Why did she get like this every time he'd brought it up? She looked like she'd just been caught going through someone else's desk drawers.

She looked up. "El, have you at least stopped to consider what they're suggesting?"

"I just told you what they're suggesting."

"A few extra sessions can't be a bad thing," she said gently. "It might even help things in the long run. Have you actually given any thought on why they're suggesting it?"

Elliot frowned, a dark grin on his lips. "So you do think I need counseling."

"God," Olivia sighed sharply and leaned back. "Y'know what, forget I even said anything. I'm just trying to see their side of it." She shook her head and turned to look at her monitor screen. "You're impossible."

A man clearing his voice made them both look up. "Problems detectives?" Cragen was standing in front of his office door looking at both of them with a raised eyebrow that creased his bald forehead.

Neither one answered him.

"Good. Now, if you can spare a few minutes out of this friendly discussion to concentrate on your jobs, there's a case we need to wrap."

Olivia at least had the grace to look abashed as she focused on her superior. "Did Raleigh's system come back up?"

"Their system's irrelevant to us now," he replied.

"Why?" Elliot asked. "Something happen overnight?"

"You could say that," Don nodded. "One of the names Cain gave us last night showed up at their station about eleven-thirty last night. Andrew Hedges just confessed to everything."

**11:43 am  
Precinct**

Cragen and his four detectives either sat or stood in one of the back rooms upstairs watching the videotape made of Hedges' confession in Raleigh's precinct. They'd sent up the tape first thing this morning, and it had just arrived. They borrowed a small TV/VCR combination television set from Huang's office and had set up shop. Alexandra Cabot was also present, standing quietly in the back with her glasses off and in one hand. Where the criminal responsible had committed the crime in their state but had just been apprehended in another, issues regarding proper jurisdiction would be popping up left and right.

Andrew Hedges was a scrawny man of maybe twenty-three. Black hair was stringy over a high broad forehead and the goatee looked like it'd not been trimmed or otherwise groomed in days. Raleigh had already been looking for him. He was on parole after having served a manslaughter charge, but three days before the fire in Chaumont, failed to contact his parole officer and no one had seen him since. He'd told the detectives during his confession that he had not known the young woman in the house was Cain's daughter - and the guilt after learning this information once the press had released it had driven him into turning himself over.

"Let's start from the beginning," one of the investigators was saying, looking grainy and distorted through the television screen. He pulled out a chair and sat in front of the young man. "Tell us what happened after you got to the ranch."

Hedges coughed. "I uh...there was a guy leaving. Eighteen, nineteen maybe. I'd been watchin the house for a day or so, y'know, just scoping the place out. I saw the guy leave and figured the house was empty y'know? I used a tire iron to pry the back door off...there was no alarm going off, so I go in. There's this breakfast made. Only one plate was out..."

"Explains why doc found Angela's stomach empty even though Derick said they'd made breakfast after sex," John murmured.

"She never ate it," Benson mused alongside his train of thought.

"...so I'm still thinkin the guy was the only one there," Hedges went on. "I go upstairs thinking, y'know, maybe I can take a few things while I'm there. See if there's any cash, jewelry, whatever - make a few bucks from a pawn or something. And she's in the bathroom in the master bedroom, doin her hair. She screamed. I hit her, just to shut her up...but it knocks her out, y'know? And her head's bleeding. I panicked. I ripped her shirt, took her pants off, figured I could make it look like the other guy'd done her before killing her. Blame the whole thing on him, y'know? I just wanted to burn the house, okay? I swear to God, I never knew she was his kid! I just wanted to torch the joint..."

He sniffed as he began to cry; an angry vindictive punk Angela had just happened to get in the way of during his petulant and impulsive spree for vengeance.

There was a sigh and then the other detective in the room stood and went behind Hedges. "Andrew Hedges," he began as he pulled the kid's arms behind him. "You are under arrest for the murder of Angela Elise Cain. You have the right to remai--"

Cragen reached out and switched off the television. "Raleigh CSU found carbon disulfide residue on the cuffs of a pair of jeans in his closet and a bloody tire iron under the bed. The DNA matches Angela's. Hedges signed his confession an hour ago."

"Now what?" Elliot asked after a pause, arms still crossed.

Eyes turned to Alex, who shrugged. "Legally, we have jurisdiction. Raleigh's been looking for this kid for a while now, but the actual crime was committed here in New York and the was case turned over to us when Watertown PD gave us rights to Angela's body."

"You have 'but' face," Munch said.

Alex inclined her head in his direction. "Cain is from Raleigh. He's got ties, and considering Hedges confessed and was arrested in their precinct, they're going to want justice served there. The fight over whether to leave him there and let North Carolina try him or have him extradited here is going to be hell. NC state prosecutors have already been calling our office."

There was a pause and then Cragen spoke up. "Ethics is where jurisdiction gets its lines blurred. Cain's a cop. Or was. I'm inclined to consider how we would feel if situations were reversed."

"I can tell you now if some perp we'd been after killed my kid in another state, I'd want his punk ass tried here," Fin spoke up. "Professional courtesy or whatever the hell you lawyers call it," he added with a jerk of his head at Cabot.

"I agree with Fin," Olivia stated simply. "We might have legal jurisdiction here, Alex, but Cain's one of their own. The case should be theirs."

Cragen spoke again. "Okay. Let's get everything we have on the Chaumont fire together and ready to send down. I'll call Raleigh PD. John, call Warner and have her prep Angela's body and autopsy records for transfer. Elliot, Olivia, I want you to coordinate with the detectives that interviewed Hedges, give them everything you got when you interviewed Derick Allen. Fin, let's make sure our CSU here has everything Raleigh's going to need to prosecute this asshole."

Alex put her glasses back on as Cragen held open the door for her. "I'll talk to Donnelly," she said of her superior in a tone betraying she wasn't looking forward to the conversation with the bureau chief.

"Elliot.." Olivia stopped her partner once everyone but them had filed out and left the room. "Listen, can I talk to you for a second?"

Stabler rubbed the end of his nose with two fingers before turning back around to look at her. "Yeah, Liv. What is it?" He sounded impatient.

She rested nervous hands on her hips. "Look, about these evaluations IAB's pushing on you.."

"Liv, I don't wanna go through this again," he cut her off shortly and curtly.

"Elliot, damnit, would you just drop this defensive attitude bullshit, I'm trying to talk to you," she exclaimed in exasperation.

"Olivia." He took a breath obviously trying to keep himself calm. "I don't wanna talk about it," he repeated firmly. "Now let's just do our jobs and get this shit wrapped up." He strode from the room without another word, leaving his partner staring after.

Olivia sighed heavily, crossed her arms, and left the room shortly after. She tried to ignore the knowing glance Cragen was given them both as they passed him down the stairs and made for their desks without looking at each other.

**6:35 pm  
Precinct**

Hinges that needed to be oiled squeaked as Elliot plopped into his seat and leaned back. Olivia had been right about one thing that day - it had been long as hell. She was already gone, as were Munch and Fin. By all rights, Elliot should have left at six like them, but a casual 'hi' in the break room thirty minutes ago had turned into a dissertation on the meaning of the word 'fair' and Elliot was mentally drained.

"What're you still doing here, Stabler?" Cragen asked as he came into headquarters having just left Warner's building.

"Uuugh," Elliot groaned and snapped back forward to rest on his desk like a rubber band whose tension had just been released. He let his hands hang limp off the edge as his forearms crossed on the fake wood top. "Y'know I just got out of a discussion with Jay Wheylan?"

"Wheylan?" Cragen looked baffled. Elliot wasn't the type to just randomly socialize with the rest of the station.

"He's _still_ goin off about how pissed he is that Hedges went for the cop who locked him up rather than the prosecutors or something." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Anyone talked to him since he was in here watching the news the day of the fire?"

"I wasn't aware he needed talking to," Cragen said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"It's not normal Cap, I'm telling you."

Don smiled. "Not everyone reacts the way we think they should. We can't begrudge a man vocalizing thoughts the rest of us might just keep to ourselves." He nodded at his detective. "It's going to be a tedious next few days, Elliot. Go home."

Elliot rubbed his hands down his face. "Yeah," he agreed. 'Next few days?' He thought. The _last_ few days had already pulled his nerves and his patience to the extreme edges of their thresholds, how was he going to stretch their reserves another four?

Cragen watched his man and came to the same decision he'd broached to Olivia before she'd gone home for the night. "Actually, Elliot, let's talk for a minute before you leave." His tone left no room for argument and Stabler followed him into his office without a word.

**End Part 4**


	5. Landfall

CHAPTER TITLE: "Landfall"

PAIRINGS: None specified

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Language, implied violence.

SUMMARY: They'd turned a blind eye, the elements around them had destabilized... And then Murphy took the opening chaos presented to him and hit them all blindside.

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: _The summary is a play off the adage of Murphy's Law, which states that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. The "/" later down indicate a past event or memory._

_P.S. - You said, 'cliffie' did ya? Not quite sure what that means… ;)_

**"Landfall"**

_(4 Days Later)_  
**Monday Jan 20th  
Noon  
Cornelia Street Cafe**

The cafe was small and in the summer the majority of the wicker tables were outside under the veranda. It was January, however, so they'd been moved inside creating a cozy if somewhat slightly cramped atmosphere. The sky outside was clear and sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows and made the room warm. Jesse Cook was playing pleasantly from speakers overhead as forks and other utensils clinked softly against fired stoneware laden with flat bread pizzas and sandwich wraps.

"Two days off in a row. What gods did you pray to last week?"

Olivia chuckled as Melinda Warner set her bag on the ground and pulled out the chair at the table the detective had gotten for them. "Any that would listen," she replied absently stirring the iced latte in front of her. She was comfortable in jeans and blue hooded pull-over. "I'd be getting my ass hauled through court on murder two otherwise."

Having witnessed the way she and Elliot had been continually grating against one another, before she had left the precinct last Thursday Cragen had suggested she actually use some of her leave and take this Monday off on top of Sunday, which she already had unscheduled. She'd called Warner and Cabot and the three friends had planned lunch. The assistant district attorney had not yet arrived.

"That bad?"

"God, Melinda," Olivia shook her head. "We've been impossible with each other. Everything he says irritates me, he takes everything I say as some personal attack. It's been non-stop since last Tuesday. We needed the break." Before _Elliot_ had left last Thursday, Cragen had told him to take Friday and Saturday off, effectively keeping the two separated for the entire weekend and then some in the hopes their temperaments would reset themselves. When she was working, he wasn't, and vice versa. The captain had figured, correctly so, that since the four days following Hedges' confession would be filled mostly with paperwork and phone calls back and forth with Raleigh PD, the station could survive without both detectives there at the same time.

"This going to be okay?" Olivia asked of their dining arrangements.

Warner nodded and scooted her chair up after she sat. "Jack's covering while I'm gone." Jack Monroe was Warner's deputy chief; if an autopsy was not performed by her, it was done so by him. "We don't have any cases coming through today that I know of," she said carefully, because that could change the instant one human being felt it necessary to kill another. "Christine offered to do files so she could leave early tonight. I should have plenty of time. Have you ordered yet?"

"Mm-mm," Olivia shook her head in the negative and put her cup back down after a sip. "Alex is just getting out of court, she's going to be here at a quarter after. I figured we could wait."

"Good." Melinda lifted her bag onto her lap and pulled three white envelopes out. "I wanted to show you these before I decided whether or not to turn them over officially to anyone." She handed them across the glass-covered square table.

"Love letters?" Olivia quipped as she leaned forward and plucked the envelopes from her friend's fingers. Each was in its own little sandwich baggie. She leaned back in her chair as she bent the flap of one back and pulled out a 3x5 index card, also sealed in plastic. She read the words typed on it aloud. "They think they're so smart." She set it aside and opened the next. "It's not really them." She read the third, "It'll change." She looked across the table at Warner, then raised an eyebrow and shook her head slightly. "Bizarre." She flipped them over but there was no return address. "When did you get these?" She handed them back.

"Over the weekend," Melinda answered and put them back in her bag, which she returned to the floor at her feet.

"What can I start you off with, ma'am?" Asked the young waitress that'd come over to them.

"Coffee, black please," Warner said and the girl moved away. "The first two came on Friday. Together. The third on Saturday."

"No idea who sent them?"

"No," Warner shook her head. "I considered having Vander run them through the scanner," she said of her tech, Jeremy Vander who worked Fingerprints in the office above the morgue. The waitress came back with a pot and filled Warner's mug. "But if I did that with every prank mail I got, we'd never have enough time left to solve any cases." She smiled and took a drink. "I just wanted your opinion on them before I decided what to do with them."

Olivia thought for a minute while she finished off her drink, then shook her head. "They're pretty off the wall. Not really threatening though, are they? Just strange. No phone calls?"

"Strange, definitely," Warner agreed. "No phone calls."

"Even still, you'd probably ought to at least let Captain Cragen take a look."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Melinda's full lips. "Probably," she conceded, and then both women smiled somewhat knowingly - Cragen would never see those notes.

"Hey."

Olivia and Warner looked up as the blonde A.D.A strode up to the table, sliding the strap of her brown briefcase off her shoulder as she sat. "You guys ordered yet?"

"Just waiting on you." Olivia smiled and caught their server's eye.

"Not for too long I hope."

"Nope," Olivia shook her head. "You're going to have enough time?"

"Yes, thank God," Alex groaned in relief and pulled off her black sunglasses. "I'm not scheduled back in court until three."

The server had come up to the table and pulled pad and pen from the pockets of the black apron tied at her waist. "All right, what am I getting you ladies today?" She asked brightly and looked at Melinda.

**7:13 pm  
Apartment of Olivia Benson**

There was only one light on in the entire apartment. A chrome standing lamp in the corner of the small living room threw a soft rich glow about the smartly furnished room, and provided just enough illumination for reading...which was what Olivia Benson was doing when the phone began ringing from the kitchen counter. Leaving John Crichton's "Sphere" lying on the coffee table spread open to the page she'd been on, she unfolded her legs from underneath her and padded sock-footed to the phone. She had a breadstick from the pizza she'd ordered that night in her hand.

"Benson," she said trying to make it sound like her mouth _wasn't_ full as she'd picked up the cordless.

"Olivia."

"Captain." She took a quick drink of the now warm apple juice she'd forgotten was on the counter and swallowed hastily. "Hi."

"I hate to bother you at home on your night off, detective," Don began.

"No." She wiped pizza sauce on her fingers off on a dishtowel hanging from the stove handle behind her and licked her lips. "That's fine. What's up?" She looked at the time on the microwave display.

"An Internal Affairs psych rep just dropped by the station about twenty minutes ago. He wants to speak with you and Elliot."

Olivia's stomach twisted in anxiety; she should have known it was going to come to this eventually. "Why?" She asked anyway just to confirm was she was thinking.

"They're recommending to me that I agree to have Elliot pushed up to bi-monthly psychological evaluations." She grimaced - she was right. "He wouldn't tell me why he wanted you there. He just said he wanted to talk to you both before making anything official through his channels."

Benson nodded to herself and ran a hand through her hair. "Okay. Yeah, I can be there in ten."

Cragen apologized again for making her come to the station on her night off, thanked her for doing so, and then they both hung up. Olivia breathed heavily and shook her head, hand still in her hair, before going to her bedroom to change out of her pullover into at least a decent looking work shirt.

After tonight, she knew, it wouldn't be her that Alex would be dragging through court on those proverbial aggravated murder charges.

It would be Elliot.

**8:00 pm  
Precinct**

Olivia watched the Internal Affairs psych rep leave and his footsteps sounded too loud and surrealistically distant as he closed the door and jogged down the metal stairs to the squad room below them. She looked at the rigid outline of her partner as he stood on the far side of the room by the lockers near the door, his back to her. They'd come up into the crib to get as much privacy as possible and the words the rep had spoken still rang through the thick air...

_/"We've been investigating these allegations for a couple of weeks now," he'd told them both as he'd closed his discussion. "Based on the statements given to us by Detective Benson regarding the incident involving Daniel Fenyak as well as numerous other reports of questionable conduct, we're going to move forward with our recommendation of bi-monthly evaluations. We feel it a necessary next step in assuring these physical displays of anger do not become grounds for suspension further on." He'd closed his briefcase, ending the meeting with a snap of the clasp. "Detectives." He'd looked at them both, thanked Olivia for her cooperation over the last two weeks, and then had left the two of them alone to deal with the fallout./_

A full minute passed in silence and with every second that ticked by, Benson felt the tension in the room wind tighter and tighter, her nerves tightening with it. When it snapped, it would give hard and fast and she wasn't sure they'd be able to ride out the shockwave.

After nearly three minutes of nothing she couldn't stand it any longer and she finally spoke, her voice quiet. "Elliot I.." She sighed. Bending her head, she put her hands in her pockets and braced for impact.

"What was it, Liv." Elliot spoke quietly, his voice dangerously low, and turned around, his arms crossed over his chest. The look on his face could have cut granite and his tone was even sharper. He could not believe what he'd just learned. And from her? The very thought was ludicrous...and yet here he was. Now he knew why she'd get that odd look on her face every time last week that he'd brought up the IAB - they had her in their back pocket. "Not strong enough? Not emotional enough? _Too_ emotional..."

"Elliot..." Olivia licked her lips and dropped her head slightly to the side, shaking it. "Please don't be like this."

He let out a sharp laugh. "Be like this?" His voice raised a pitch and his gaze hardened. "That comment in the car last week wasn't "just a comment", was it Olivia? You sold me out."

"If you want to word it like that, then yes, I did. I--"

"I can't believe you," Stabler interrupted her, shaking his head with an incredulous and cankerous grin on his face. "Daniel Fenyak," he mused. "You didn't even see it! You were in surgery while the docs tried to fish a slug out of your gut!"

Olivia shook her head. "It's not just Daniel, Elliot, and I didn't have to see it because I've seen others. He wasn't the first, and you and I both know he won't be the last."

He chuckled and leaned back against the wall, crossing his ankles. "So. The rat squad." He played his teeth along his bottom lip. His eyes never left hers. "How long you been squealing to 'em? Been friends for a while now?"

"Elliot.."

"Real cozy bedfellows now aren't you."

"Elliot that's not fair!" She was stung. "Would you just stop for a second and let me explain?"

Their tempers were escalating and the air around them was sizzling like late summer thunderclouds ready to merge and explode. All it would take was an ignition source, the proper imbalance of elements already present, and there would be no going back.

Olivia was getting desperate and rested her flailing hands on her hips to steady them. She took a slow deep breath to calm herself. "A couple of days before I was released from the hospital, Fin came to see me. We talked, and he told me about your eruption in the ER that night. If either officer there'd reported it, you would have found yourself slapped with a nice long admin leave. I couldn't just let it slide this time, Elliot, I had to say something. They started asking, and I told the truth. I'm not going to let you get yourself tossed because of some testosterone driven need to prove something. If this is what it takes--"

"It wasn't your place to tell them _ANY_thing Olivia!" Elliot pushed off the wall. "Cragen maybe--"

"They weren't _asking_ Cragen!"

'''...but my own partner turning me over to the dogs? Do you have any idea what this is gonna look like on my record?"

"God," she laughed. "You're unbe_liev_able." Olivia stared at him like he'd lost his mind and crossed her arms over her chest. "We're talking suspension and you're worried about saving face? You can't, for one minute, look past your own misaligned pride and consider that someone around here actually gives a rat's ass about your _career_, can you?"

"My career?" He repeated. "What the hell makes you think I've done anything I do for _my_ sake?" He moved away from the wall and walked towards her; his face was reddening and that vein in his temple was going crazy. "I get rough, yeah. I also get confessions, and it keeps them from pounding _your_ ass doesn't it."

Olivia was shaking her head and trying to get another word in through his tirade.

"What do you want from me, huh?" He went on, still bearing down on her. "What else is it you need me to do? I've done paperwork, case files, made phone calls. Gone to lunches in restaurants I hate. Offered my own damn house for a week. I--"

"I don't need your charity, Elliot!" Her angry exclamation cut him off, her voice strained and hoarse with emotion. "I need a partner! Your lack of self-control and your heavy hand's eventually going to send you to a place where I won't have your back and I can _NOT_ do this job by myself."

"Uh huh." Elliot stopped right in front of her, his almost overbearing proximity making her lean back slightly as she stared up at him. "Partner," he mused sardonically, bitterly as if the word tasted bad in his mouth. He rubbed his jaw with one hand. "I never expected something so cowardly from you. You couldn't even come to me, you just had to slink off to the IAB when they come fishing?"

"I tried! But even if I had gotten through on Thursday, would you have listened to what I had to say!"

He ignored the question because, if he stopped long enough to push the anger aside, he knew he wouldn't have listened to a thing. "So what was it. Really. You get sick of the temper, figure if you rat to them they might just get you a new partner?" He shrugged casually. "Someone a little younger maybe. Someone a little less married, a little more accessible for the bedroo--"

_SMACK._

Ignition. The slap echoed sharply off the shelves and cots in the barren room.

It happened so fast Stabler didn't even feel it at first. For a few seconds he left his stinging face turned the way Olivia's hand had propelled it before slowly turning it back to look down at her. He was momentarily stunned into silence.

"You self-absorbed, hateful son of a bitch." Olivia's eyes were brimming and her heart was pounding. "You have no right." Her voice was low and shaky and she was shaking right along with it. Hurt carried every word. "I'm just trying to protect a friend."

Elliot stared at her stonily for several seconds, still saying nothing, unable to feel past the anger. When he did finally reply, his voice was slow and his tone was heavy with the quiet arrogance Olivia had only heard him use with the perps he threw around the interrogation rooms. "What was it you once said to me...'If you can't trust your partner it's time to get a new one'..?"

The wind left Benson's lungs as if she'd just been kicked in the chest. Her lips trembled and tears she refused to give him the satisfaction of watching fall sparkled in her dark eyes. She looked at him in disbelief, blinking back shock. Her mouth was slightly open, but she couldn't speak. She could barely breathe.

Screw both of them trying to just ride out the shockwave - _she_ hadn't survived the blast.

Seconds passed...and she never found her voice. Beaten, and knowing it, Olivia looked away and sidestepped around behind him to move to the door. She stopped there, her hand resting on the doorknob.

"Y'know, you're right." She nodded though he wasn't looking. "I am selfish." She swallowed hard and looked up and across the room at his back. Her voice was a clogged whisper, thick with tears and riddled with defeat. "But you have no idea what it's like to be alone." She opened the door and it clicked quietly behind her as she left the room.

Harsh light from streetlamps outside was filtering through the frosted windows. Dust stirred by the closing door shimmered like glitter in the shafts of light as it tried to resettle. As happened so many times in his life, rage evaporated and morphed into regret the moment the door shut and guilt ambushed Elliot Stabler with terrific force. The sudden silence in the room was close and oppressive, nearly overwhelming. He closed his eyes and let a long deep breath out through his nose; Jesus Christ. What had he done?

He'd never felt more dirty in his life.

**8:30 pm**

When Olivia had composed herself enough to come down the stairs John had left for the night and Fin was sitting at his desk. He was busying himself at his computer, looking like a person does when they're trying to behave like they hadn't just overheard a conversation they shouldn't have. Cragen was in his office, blissfully unaware of the collision that has just rocked the upper floor.

"Yo." Fin jerked his head in Benson's direction as she walked wearily to her desk.

"Hey." The smile was wan and forced and couldn't migrate to her eyes. She opened a desk drawer and pulled out her keys. "You're here late."

Fin watched her, noticed her hands were shaking as she reached across her desk to shut her own computer down. John had been using it while his own defragged and had forgotten to turn it off when he'd left. "Yeah," Tutuola murmured in reply, looking away before she caught him staring. "Don't be too impressed though. I'm just orderin a pizza so it'll be there when I get home." He tossed her a wry grin.

"Fin."

They both looked up and across the squad room as Cragen opened his door and leaned out it. "Warner just called. Narcotics had a tough one, she's starting the post now. She wants your opinion on something before she closes up shop, you got a few minutes to slip over there before you head out for the night?"

"You bet." Fin was always glad to help out his old squad. He shut his terminal off and slid his chair under his desk.

Hinges squealed as a door above them opened and Olivia was suddenly suffocating. "Want some company?" She asked without looking at Tutuola as they each reached to snag their coats off the wall.

"Nah, I'm good. It's gettin late, you don't have to tag along."

"You sure? I don't mind." Her voice was casual, but her eyes pled with him to just agree and let her come. Elliot had come out of the crib. She needed a flight path out before he came down those stairs, and Warner's request to Fin was it.

Fin glanced at Elliot, who was on the landing, and then stole a peek at Olivia ... who was doing her damndest not to look at Elliot. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay." He clapped a hand once on her good shoulder - the other was still tender. "Coffee after's on me."

Olivia smiled gratefully. "That'd be great." She slid her coat and gloves on, flipped her desk lamp off, and then she and Fin left the squad room...and left Elliot Stabler staring after them looking as miserable as he felt.

Cragen glanced at him and then at where Olivia and Fin had disappeared through the wide doors. He prided himself on being a perceptive man, and he knew the stagnant chill of the air had nothing to do with the fact that it had begun snowing outside. He didn't have a chance to question his detective, however, because when he looked back Elliot had grabbed his coat from the wall and was storming for the stairwell to the lower parking terrace.

**8:40 pm**

Manhattan had become a snow globe and someone was upending it. Snow was falling in huge and lazy flakes, illuminated like yellow feathers in the lamps across the street, as the two detectives made their way to Warner's building. The damp cold felt good against Olivia's flushed skin.

Fin studied her from his peripheral vision as they walked across the darkened and sodden parking lot to the office's side entrance doors. He'd not heard words, phrases exactly, but he didn't need to have had to know that whatever _was_ said during her and Elliot's blowout back in the crib had greatly upset the woman next to him.

"Olivia..." Fin began cautiously. He thought back to the look on Elliot's face. "Elliot. He--"

"Fin." Benson stopped before opening the door and looked at him. "Don't," she said quietly but sternly.

He nodded. "You need to talk about it?" He asked after a moment.

Olivia paused and watched cars pass on the street to her right. Whether the hesitation was to consider the question or compose herself before answering it, Fin wasn't sure. "Yeah." She nodded. "But I don't think I can," she added with a tight smile.

Fin laid a compassionate hand on the side of her neck. A moment later he tapped it once affectionately in standard subtle Tutuola fashion. The touch was enough emotional thread to pull a shredded psyche back together and, without another word needing to pass between them, Fin opened the door and they headed back past Warner's office to the elevator that led down to the morgue.

**9:15 pm  
Stabler household**

"Dad."

Elliot jerked his head to the left. His eldest daughter Maureen was sitting on the couch next to him with an expectant look on her pretty features. The television was on, but he wasn't looking at the screen. For the last half hour his eyes had been on the phone and a mental debate over whether or not he was brave enough to pick it up and call her was still being waged. "Sorry." He rubbed his eyes and focused on his daughter. "What?"

Maureen put down the pad and pen she was holding and smiled. She'd been trying for twenty minutes now to get him to answer a few questions on a research questionnaire assignment she had due tomorrow...but he'd only get part way through an answer before zoning out again. She wasn't angry though, she understood he had a hard job. She crossed her arms and leaned into his shoulder. "Bad case?"

Stabler draped his arm over her shoulders and hugged her. He sighed heavily, kissed the top of her head, and rested his cheek there. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. This one..." He pictured for the hundredth time tonight the expression on Olivia's face and a hot shame blazed through his gut. "This one's really gotten to me," he finished.

"Wanna talk? I'm taking psychology this semester."

Father and daughter had a strong bond and sometimes he could talk more easily to her than he could with Kathy. He shook his head and smiled. "Naw, I'm all right." He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "There's just something I gotta do that I'm really not looking forward to doing. Kinda like your homework." He jostled her playfully. "Now let's get it done, huh? What was the question."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely." He clapped his hands once and shifted to face her. "I'm all yours. Hit me." He would call first thing tomorrow.

Maureen grinned and swiped up the pad. "You have to answer honestly." She looked at it and read, "What does the word 'recreation' mean to you?" from the top of the page. The phone began ringing as Elliot pursed his lips and thought.

"Okay. Recreation..."

"Hello." Kathy's voice was soft from the kitchen as she answered the phone. "Yeah just one second. Elliot!"

"Hold that thought babe." He pointed a finger at Maureen and popped off the sofa.

"_Cragen_," Kathy mouthed as he neared. She had a worried expression on her face as she handed him the receiver and stepped back. She was biting her lip. She hated it when the captain called after Elliot was already home for the night.

"Cap." Elliot rested a fist on his hip. "You're interrupting a very crucial interrogation." He winked down the hall at Maureen who was leaning over the back of the couch watching him.

"Elliot we need you down at the station ASAP," came Cragen's terse no pre-amble reply.

"It's almost nine-thirty," Stabler frowned somewhat irritated. "What's up?" He listened a little more closely and his frown of irritation turned to one of consternation as he heard the sounds of a busy station house rather than one that should be all but shutting down to its skeleton grave shift for the night. Phones were ringing, officers were talking loudly, furniture sounded like it was being moved around. Very faintly, he could hear sirens. "Cap'n what's going on down there?"

The noise faded as Elliot heard Cragen shut his office door. "Jay Wheylan and an anonymous accomplice just walked into Warner's building and started ordering people out," the captain said bluntly. "They forced everyone from the ground floor offices and then went down to the morgue. They've barricaded themselves in the autopsy suite. Shots were fired and one of the techs from upstairs said she heard screaming."

Pause. He blinked. "What...?" He couldn't process what he'd just heard. "What the hell for!" He exclaimed when he was able. This wasn't just out of left field, this was coming from another ballpark all together.

"We have no idea."

"Shit," Elliot swore. "I thought that prick was unstable. He's been going off the deep end since Chaumont. He wouldn't stop going on about it ..." He was rummaging around for his keys and Kathy, having taken his cue, was pulling his coat from the front closet.

"I've already called John, he's on his way," Don was saying. "Huang's coming in with HRT. How fast can you be here?"

"Uh..." Kathy helped Elliot shrug into his coat as he looked at the microwave. "Twenty minutes?" He put his hand over the mouthpiece and looked at his wife saying quickly, "Go start the car," before going back to the phone.

"...in there. Elliot?" Cragen had been trying to talk to him not knowing he'd pulled his ear away for a second.

"Yeah Kathy's starting the car up now." He rifled through papers on the bar counter top, pushing mail aside, looking for his wallet.

"Elliot," his superior said a little more forcefully.

"I'm out the door, Cap." He was talking loud into the cordless as he jogged to the garage. "Fin and Olivia already on their way down?"

Silence.

"Captain?" There was an unnatural tension leaking from the other end of the phone. A dark feeling swept through the garage and Elliot's hands were suddenly clammy. He hesitated before opening the car door. "Captain..."

A heavy breath sounded from Cragen.

And a moment later, Elliot's sense of reality disintegrated.

"Elliot, Fin and Olivia are still in the building. They were with Warner in the morgue when Jay opened fire."

**End Part 4**

_A/N - ...Am I bad? ((bats eyelashes))_


	6. Eye of the Beast Zero Hour

CHAPTER TITLE: "Eye of the Beast (Countdown)"

PAIRINGS: None specified

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Lots of language, more implied violence. Big ol' angst fest.

SUMMARY: They were taught that your partner is like your blood - and they were watching each other bleed to death.

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: _This first scene backtracks about 30 minutes from where Chapter 5 left off to show what happened between Olivia and Fin's entering the morgue and Cragen's phone call to Elliot._

**"Eye of the Beast (Countdown)"**

**Monday Jan 20th  
9:05 pm  
Autopsy suite, County Coroner's building**

"Y'know, I hate it when it's kids," Fin muttered.

Neither Warner nor Benson needed to be told this, they knew he did. They said nothing because nothing needed TO be said. They'd seen his reaction to the Chaumont arson and contrary to popular belief, Fin was actually quite sensitive.

"Why they gotta get mixed up in this crap?" The question was rhetorical and no one was really expected to answer it. Olivia didn't want to try, and they all knew God certainly wouldn't. So it just hung in the air as they approached the table that held the young body Doctor Warner had been given custody of.

The air was chilled, the temperature in the suite typically kept a few degrees lower than the rest of the basement or the first floor, and in spite of Warner's best efforts over the years, always smelled faintly of formalin and other chemicals meant to help slow the degradation with which time battered the dead.

Despite the nip, Olivia had her gloves off and her coat draped over her left arm - she was still overheated from her row with Elliot and the cold was a soothing balm on her outstandingly frazzled nerve endings.

"Homicide?" Benson asked as she and Tutuola looked at the petite Asian girl lying on the stainless steel table. A block had been slid under her neck to keep her head from lolling to one side or the other. She couldn't have been more than twelve.

"Not at first glance," Melinda said. "But that's why I asked you to come down for a look," she directed at Fin. "I found this," she held up a tiny sealed packet of white powder, "...inside her mouth, the inside of her lip. Along with this." She folded the girl's bottom lip down and on the inside tattooed in crude black ink were the letters F.U.C.K., upside down as if the girl had pulled out her lip and done it herself.

Olivia made a face and shook her head. "You know you're getting old when they start teaching that in home ec."

"Have you seen anything like this before?" Warner asked Fin.

"Yeah." Tutuola nodded with a grim expression, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "Gangs'll do it when one of their cronies goes AWOL. They track 'em down, kill 'em. They don't even bother asking questions, they just assume they're about to be caught out and eliminate the threat. The girls they'll usually rape before they kill, the guys get their goods chopped off, then they tattoo them with that. Humiliation to the extreme. You don't get on these guys' bad sides."

"I didn't find any evidence of rape," Warner said and let go of her lip. "But then I haven't done the internal exam yet. What about this?" She held up the sealed packet of cocaine between two fingers.

Fin shook his head in disgust. "It's their way of the last laugh. She was trying to go clean."

"Sick bastards," Olivia murmured somewhat absently.

"Anything I should watch for specifically during the post?" Warner handed the packet to her tech, Dante. Christine, her other tech, was celebrating her anniversary with her husband today and had left hours ago. "Take that up to Evidence?"

"Sure thing."

"You finishin her tonight?" Fin asked.

"No, first thing tomorrow morning." She pulled the blue drape cloth up over the girl's head. "My concentration has a bedtime, and she deserves the attention at its fullest."

Olivia had tuned out the conversation as Dante left the suite and Warner moved off. There was a quiet commotion sounding from the upper floor. A door shutting. A chair scuffing along the floor. Voices were louder than the detective thought they ought to be in a coroner's office at nine o'clock at night. Especially since there'd hardly been anyone left in the building when she and Fin had gotten here. She tilted her head. "You hear that?"

She was looking at the ceiling as if they could see through it to the source of the ruckus. More voices. Shouting. Footsteps were heavy and fast as whomever they belonged to ran down the hall. Someone laughed and another door was shut.

"Some party," Benson commented dryly and with the same kind of grin at Fin and Warner...but something about the noise was sending a little alarm ringing in her head. She couldn't nail it down, nor could she extract a reason for why it was bothering her.

A cabinet or something metallic was slammed. Hard. Fin was frowning, the same alarm that was showing in Olivia's eyes now starting to clang for him.

"What's wrong?" Warner had moved the body to the freezer and quirked an eyebrow as she came back to stand next to the two.

"Something don't feel right..."

A double succession of pops, like the last popcorn kernels in the bag exploding in the microwave, made all three of them jump and their heads shot to the suite's double doors as a man yelled and they heard what sounded like something heavy hitting the floor in the hallway. Another man swore incomprehensibly.

"The hell...?" Fin muttered. He recognized the sound - what he couldn't process was why he was hearing it here. Instinct was sending his hand towards his firearm.

Warner looked annoyed with the noise what she thought was her staff were making as they left for the night and she moved to the doors to investigate the commotion before either Olivia or Tutuola, their mental alarms now shrieking at them, could stop her.

"Doc--"

"Melinda..."

The double doors were flung open, smacking hard against the walls on either side. Popcorn kernels that had not been grown in any other place but a munitions warehouse exploded again from two different directions and Fin shoved Olivia to the cement floor as acrid gunpowder filled the room.

Melinda Warner had already gone down screaming.

**Present time (9:42 pm)  
Precinct**

The entire street block around the station house was in chaos and the street cordoned off an additional block in both directions as Elliot pulled his car to the curb and jumped out without turning his headlights off. Red and blue flashed against brick and turned snow strobing through eerie colors as it piled on the ground and continued to fall around them. Squad cars lined the street on either side, the sirens Elliot had heard earlier now silenced. Local emergency vehicles, fire engines, Paramedics, ambulances, as well as units from Chester sat interspersed between the throng of marked and unmarked police sedans. A black S.W.A.T. truck was there and men in riot gear, transparent shields absent, were taking positions at various strategic locations with their radios crackling.

The media, unsurprisingly, had also already arrived; a woman and a cameraman under a flood lamp stood by a dark NBC news van down the street several yards away from the perimeter that had been built from crime scene tape and construction barricades.

Snipers were being placed, though because the morgue was below ground and had no windows, the best they could hope for was Jay or his armed companion venturing up into the ground floor offices. As Elliot showed his credentials and was allowed through he could see the blinds had already been tipped closed. He didn't need to check to know the door was locked.

The unrest inside headquarters was even worse than outside, only this was a more controlled form of chaos. Everyone had a place, had a job. Desks had been rearranged and slid together to create one long table surface down the center of the room and computer technicians from the precinct were setting up communications and surveillance equipment and connecting various terminals from the office to a master network. Jeans and t-shirts separated officers that'd been called at home from those still on their shifts and not one of them could stand still.

Manhattan's Hostage Rescue Team, or HRT, task force was already on scene and two of them were speaking with Cragen. Obviously the situation fell under the captain's jurisdiction, but both precinct and specialized task force would need to coordinate flawlessly and the men who led both knew this. George Huang, the unit's criminal profiler, was also a member of the consultation panel connected to the HRT and was in the precinct quietly waiting for the moment when he would become the crisis team's most valuable asset. Every once in a while the flash of an emergency medical professional's badge caught the eye as they stood by ready for action or consultation.

The TV in the corner was on, the volume down low as live news broadcast of the standoff being recorded just down the street played out on the screen.

"Goddamn vultures," Stabler cursed savagely to himself as he strode into the squad room turned crisis command center. He tossed his coat one-handedly to some random chair against the wall and began to roll up the sleeves of his sweatshirt - he'd not changed back into work clothes when Cragen had called him. "We're only twenty minutes into this shit and they're already circling. What do we got?"

"You're looking at it." It was John that answered. He appeared out of place and oddly diminished in faded jeans and what looked like a gym shirt; Elliot had never seen him out of his dark slacks, dress shirt and tie before. For the first time since knowing the man, John Munch looked old.

Cragen had finished his conversation with HRT and strode over. "Everything went down about five after nine," he began, repeating a bit of what he'd relayed over the phone. "The few people from the ground floor offices say Jay came into the building with another white male, thirty to thirty-five, in black pants and a denim jacket. Wheylan started ordering them out and then his buddy pulled a gun. Last person out of the building says he was having a hard time controlling this accomplice, was yelling at him, trying to calm him down as they headed for the morgue."

"Unreal." Elliot crossed his arms and spread his stance. "Two guys with guns just waltz into the county coroner's building and no one bats an eyelash until after things go apeshit?" Phones were ringing around him. He blocked the noise out.

"He was in uniform, Elliot," Munch stated. He looked fidgety, like he didn't know what to do with his own body. "He wouldn't have had to go through the metal detectors. Guard did everything by the book. There was no way he could have known Jay was going to hand a second gun to his buddy once they were both through."

"Bastard thought of everything didn't he." Stabler looked at Cragen. "You told me one of the techs from the office said she heard screaming. What's the word on injuries?"

"Few bruises here and there. Jay's accomplice got a little rough with some of them as they were clearing the ground floor. Nothing serious we know of."

The 'yet' was left unspoken.

A bitter taste filled his mouth as he asked, "Warner? Fin and Olivia?"

He thought he saw something flicker in John's eyes as Cragen paused and then shook his head. "Nothing yet. We're trying to get a team into the building to pull the security tapes and get fiber optics in."

"Olivia'd have had her phone on her."

"We can't get through," the captain said. "It's either off or just not being answered, and Jay's not calling us." He took a breath and went on. "HRT's talking to the city now and we're getting blueprints. John's already called the contractors who built it; they'll be here within the hour. The bay doors that lead into the autopsy suite from the parking terrace in the back are hydraulic. City's cut power to the building. There's no way out but through us."

Elliot rubbed both hands down his face. "Christ."

Cutting the power was protocol. It gave the people outside some control. It worked. But because of the place Jay had chosen to turn into his own little Fort Apache, protocol this time was a double edged sword. It would keep him and his accomplice in and leave them unable to access anything, but it would destroy evidence in the form of the bodies Warner had in her freezer. Not to mention that, because the morgue was in the basement and it was the end of January, without heat the autopsy suite was slowly but definitely going to get very cold. All they could hope was that the weather stayed overcast and snowing...if it cleared and the insulating cloud cover lifted, temperatures would drop below freezing.

"The freezer is self contained," Cragen was saying. "It's on its own power."

"Oh that's great news," Elliot muttered facetiously with a bitter shake of his head. "So the dead bodies'll be fine." 'Now what about the three bodies outside the freezer that are still breathing?' He thought to himself. Stabler moved his hands and looked at John. Munch had gone strangely quiet and looked slightly unfocused. "Okay." Elliot looked to his captain, his nerves on fire. "What d'we do."

The Asian criminal profiler the squad depended on in so many cases had come over to them. "At the moment, detective, there's nothing we _can_ do," Huang replied. "Aside from what's already being done. I can't assess Jay's mental state until he begins talking to the primary negotiator. And right now we can't contact him. The phone in the basement is outside the autopsy suite...it's unlikely Jay or his accomplice is going to risk leaving the safety of a windowless room to answer a phone in the hall, and even if they did take that risk, we can't connect to that line. The only form of communication we have right now is through Detective Benson's cell phone. Whether he calls us or answers our calls to her number, the first move has to be his."

"So what're you saying here?" Elliot persisted impatiently.

Cragen, hands in his pockets, gave a helpless shrug. "We wait."

Elliot sighed, his blood boiling. "Perfect."

**11:17 pm  
Autopsy Suite**

Detective Tutuola sat with his back to one of the stainless steel cupboard doors that made up the counters lining the autopsy suite. A permanent scowl crinkled the corners of his dark eyes and furrowed the lines in his forehead as he watched the two men that had stormed the morgue little over an hour and a half ago. The main power was off, and they looked eerily luminescent in the yellow glow of the emergency lighting that had blipped on when the electricity had been jacked.

Jay looked like a man gone mad - and he probably had done just that, Fin thought - but it wasn't a violent or psychotic type of glint in his eyes. He looked scared. He kept pacing back and forth near the back of the room, shaking his head and muttering "not like this" under his breath. His hands trembled and he kept chewing on his lower lip. He was unstable, definitely, but not coming across to Fin as overtly dangerous.

No, the one that scared the ex-narcotics detective right now was Jay's accomplice. The man was younger than Jay by several years, and was already totally out of control...

/_Fin jerked his head up at Warner's cry. The M.E. was curled on her side on the floor, holding her right knee in a vice._

_"Melinda!" Olivia exclaimed in shock from underneath him. Ignoring the two gunmen, she pushed up to her hands and wiggled free._

_"Jesus!" Jay hollered, looking horrified. "The fucking hell are you doing?" He shouted at his friend, shoving him backwards a few steps._

_"Hey, man, you're the one that wanted help with this fucking idea," the man bit back._

_"I didn't tell you to shoot anyone!" Jay raged._

_"Melinda..." Olivia had crawled to Warner's side. "Okay...it's okay honey." She pressed her own hands on top of the doctor's; the pant leg of her scrubs was soaked at the knee. The doctor had her eyes closed tightly and was breathing fast. "Melinda look at me. It's okay..." Olivia kept murmuring. She left one hand over the wound and reached up the other to the table top above them where she'd seen a roll of paper towels._

_"DON'T!"_

_Olivia flinched hard and froze mid-motion as the tip of a semi-automatic handgun touched the side of her head._

_Fin, who had been moving to help her help Warner, froze as well. His eyes were glued to the weapon "Jay..."_

_"Fucking hell, man," Jay growled and slapped his friend's hand away, hard. "She's a cop!"_

_"Yeah? And what if she'd been goin for her fucking gun.."_

_"Jay..." Olivia's voice shook but she didn't look up or move any further towards the paper towels. "I'm just trying to stop the bleeding. If we don't get it under control right now she'll bleed to death, and then you'll have murder on your hands."_

_"Christ," Wheylan swore again. "Fine." He angrily shouldered his partner out of the way and bent. He pulled Benson's Colt from its holster; out of habit she had donned it when Cragen had called her even though she was off duty. Fin wisely already had his out and it dangled from his finger by its trigger as Jay reached for it. He snatched it up then threw both weapons in the enormous Rubbermaid trash bin in the far corner. "There, you happy?" He snapped at his buddy._

_After a tense few linger seconds the other man backed down. The reason Fin and Olivia were trying to stem Warner's bleeding was momentarily forgotten as the two worked to do just that./_

Jay allowed them to use whatever resources available in the suite to help the M.E. and it had taken almost thirty-five minutes to get the bleeding under control and Melinda comfortable. Thankfully, the doctor had been conscious and alert enough to help them and they'd even managed to get the wound stitched closed. The wayward bullet from the barrel of Jay's accomplice's weapon had gone clean through, but her knee-cap looked ruined. Olivia's coat was acting as a pillow to prop her now thickly bandaged leg up and Fin had given up his leather jacket to keep her warm and help discourage shock. Self-diagnosing, Melinda had assured them both that it wasn't too serious. Hurt like a bitch and would take weeks to fully heal, she confessed, but was not immediately life-threatening. Even still, her dark skin was the pale washed out color of overly-diluted chocolate milk and Fin knew that his and Olivia's first priority was to get her out and into the hands of other medical professionals. Thank God she'd at least been shot in a medical type facility.

Now Olivia sat next to Fin, with Warner next to her; they were clasping hands and all three had been quiet for some time now.

"How're you doing," Olivia asked the other woman quietly, concern heavy in her brown eyes.

Warner squeezed the hand she was holding, giving it a pat along with a little smile to let the detective know she was, in fact, all right. She was, however, holding that hand a little tighter than she otherwise might have.

"What's goin on here, Jay?" Fin, after several minutes of silence, risked conversation. His voice was level and non-confrontational.

"Wasn't supposed to go down like this," the man muttered curiously.

"Like what, Jay?" Olivia ventured carefully after a long pause. His friend had his gun trained on all three of them. The three of them had to tread extremely carefully, and each of them knew it. One wrong word or move, and they were finished.

"This..." Wheylan gestured around the darkened room. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt!" He oddly glanced at the double doors that led into the hallway. "I just wanted them to see, to know how stuff really worked..."

Just then a muted ringing sounded from the pile of coat bunched up under Warner's knee. "The hell is that?" Jay's buddy barked. "Whose fucking phone is that?"

Olivia dimly realized that her phone had been ringing almost non-stop for about an hour, but she and Fin had been so focused on helping Melinda, she'd tuned it out. Obviously Jay's friend had not done the same. She glanced at the pocket she knew the phone was in, and then looked up at Jay.

"You know procedure here, Jay," she began coolly. "They're not going to stop until you talk to them."

"It's yours?" His sweating companion thrust the barrel of his weapon at her again.

"Ryan!"

"Hey, back off!" Fin shouted at the man at the same time as Jay. He'd had it with this prick. But at least said prick had a name now. "Jay, c'mon man," Tutuola switched moods in a flash to talk to the other officer, and his voice was again calm and steady. "At least answer it so the station knows everyone's okay."

Jay looked from Fin to Olivia...then waved the hand holding his own gun impatiently. "Yeah fine, whatever. Answer 'em. I'm sick of the ringing anyway." His friend had cut the wires in the cord of the phone out in the hall ten minutes ago to keep _it_ from ringing already and annoying them - the mobile was their only connection.

Sharing a surprised and somewhat wary look with Fin, Olivia bent forward and carefully slid the sleek silver flip phone out of the rumpled pocket half-mashed under Melinda's knee. With no further protestation coming from either Jay or his buddy, Ryan they now knew him as, she shakily opened the mobile. Her movements were slow and deliberate and she kept her eyes on Jay and Ryan the whole time as she pressed the green button.

Any sudden or abrupt motion from herself, Fin, or Warner could mean a bullet for any one of them.

**11:20 pm  
Precinct**

As Jay's superior on scene, and because he had dealt with situations like this many times in his career, Captain Cragen had been given the responsibility of primary negotiator. The individual who had the only direct contact with the captors. The man talking him through the actual negotiating, basically feeding him his lines, would be Huang. Both men sat at the line of desks turned command center table at the communications equipment. Huang was holding headphones to one ear, Cragen was wearing a headset. The rest of the HRT were milling about the station conjuring up strategies for possible scenarios no one really wanted to consider.

The captain glanced at the clock on the wall as the ringing continued in his head. On the tenth ring he went to terminate the connection before he heard, again, the mechanical voice tell him, "the cellular customer you have called does not answer." His finger was resting on the latch when he heard a click. A split second later, contact was finally made.

"Benson." A female voice sounded through the speakers and relief flooded him so strongly he had to rest his forehead in one hand.

"Olivia. Thank God," Cragen breathed, rubbing his eyes. A collective sigh seemed to go through the crowd of crisis management personnel gathered in the squad room.

Elliot's eyes were riveted to the speaker phone as if, if he stared at it hard enough, he could see his partner through it.

It was extremely atypical to have a captor let one of his hostages answer ANY phone, let alone their own phone...but he wasn't about to argue what was 'normal' with himself right now. He would take what he was given. "Are you all right detective?" Don asked.

"Fin and I are okay," she reported. Munch bowed his head with an unusually audible sigh and another officer clapped him on the back. "Warner's hurt."

"...t wasn't me!" They heard distantly, in the background. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that. Tell them!"

"It was an accident," Olivia came back carefully.

"How serious?" Cragen was waving an EMT over to listen in.

"Her knee-cap looks shattered, but we stopped the bleeding and closed the wounds. She says she's all right."

"Ask her if the bullet passed through or is still lodged in the patient's leg," the paramedic prompted Cragen.

"Olivia did the bullet go through?"

"Yeah, it went clean."

"Was Wallace _all_ the way..." they heard Jay mutter from the background again. Fingers in the squad room snapped and several officers jumped to computers to try and get a fix on the new name, partial as it was at the moment. Elliot had to clench his fist to keep himself from reacting when one of those officers sat down at what, before two hours ago, had been Olivia's desk.

Huang was looking at Cragen, his hand over his own mouthpiece. "_Jay_," he mouthed, and Cragen nodded his understanding. They had to get Jay on the phone and right off the bat needed to negotiate Warner's release. He was just so damn loathe to abandon his detective for the unraveled officer holding her and Fin at gunpoint...

"Olivia you know the city's cut the power," he began, dragging it out just a bit longer. "We're going to do everything we can to resolve this as fast as possible, but it's likely the basement's going to get pretty cold in the meantime."

A pause. Then, "We understand."

"How much power do you have left?"

"What're they saying?" Jay asked nervously. He sounded closer this time.

"He just wants to know much power my phone has, Jay," they heard Benson tell him in a passive, calming tone. Cragen cheered silently. Keep them calm while staying calm yourself was the name of this game. There was a tense pause, and then she answered. "The cell was fully charged on Sunday." Elliot jerked his hand at a technician nearby and he jogged over to the detective.

"She's got a Motorola V171 flip," he said of Olivia's cell phone. "We need model specs, we need to know how long that battery's gonna last." The tech nodded, moved away to get this information, and Elliot focused again on the speaker phone.

"Now what?" Jay asked. "Who're you talking to?" He sounded nervous, agitated, but his voice was laced with more curious undertones than anything else.

"Captain Cragen," they listened as Olivia spoke to him patiently. "Them talking to me isn't going to do anything, Jay," she went on. "They need to talk to _you._ They have to know what you need, you know this..."

"Dude, who the hell is she to go on about what's gonna help us outta this shit," a new, angrier male voice sounded through the squad room. "She's full of bullshit," he ranted. "This whole thing is bullshit!"

"Ryan, shove it," Jay snapped. "You came because you fucking wanted to."

Cragen wrote _Ryan Wallace_ on a piece of chewing gum wrapper - it had been the only piece of 'paper' near him at the time - and handed it to Elliot who in turn handed it off to the officers already working on getting information about this accomplice. Now they had a first name too.

"I know how this shit works, okay?" Wheylan went on. "Look, I...shit. I gotta think, this wasn't the idea. I just need to think." Silence for a few seconds. "Look, tell 'em to just call back when I got it worked out. Need to just think..." His voice trailed off and got quieter like he was moving away from where the phone could pick him up.

"Captain," she came back on the line.

"We heard, Olivia," Cragen confirmed. Huang was trying to catch his eye. He looked left at him and the profiler was tapping his watch. He nodded. "We need a time frame..." he told his detective.

"They want to know when you'd like them to call back," Olivia said to Jay, skillfully wording it so that right off the bat Jay felt he had some control. They didn't hear a response from him, he had wandered too far away for the phone to pick it up, but a second later she came back with, "An hour."

"Okay," Cragen breathed. "An hour," he confirmed.

"Hang up the damn phone already," the man they now knew to be Ryan Wallace snapped from close by. "Gonna waste all the fucking batteries."

"Olivia," Cragen said quickly before she could terminate the connection.

"Captain."

"Be there," he said bluntly, his tone ordering her and Fin to keep themselves and Warner alive until they made contact again. A moment later there was a click, and the line went dead. Don looked at his watch. Nine minutes of conversation total.

Chaos.

The moment the call was cut, the squad room, which during the conversation had been still as the grave, erupted in noise.

"People!" Cragen silenced them with a raise of his hands. "All right. We've got a lot of information to gather and share and only an hour in which to get it organized." His first priority was Warner and he looked at the EMT that had listened in. "Tell me something good..."

"It sounds good," the young man said with a nod. "With the slug passing clean, there's less risk of infection. Your detective said they stopped the bleeding and sutured the wound. As gruesome as it sounds, a morgue _does_ have the equipment and supplies necessary to properly treat injuries. Gauze to stem bleeding, wraps to keep pressure bandages in place, antiseptics for cleaning purposes.." He looked at them all. "Baring the onset of shock, for the time being I think she's gonna be okay. Obviously we need to think long-term as well," he added. "But from here, right now, it looks good."

"Thank you," Cragen nodded, only slightly uplifted by the positive prognosis. "Lieutenant," he barked next at the HRT team leader.

Phil Aston was a brawny, slightly pot-bellied man of about fifty and he spoke with the confidence of a man who had been doing this a long time and was good at it. "I'm inclined to think we've got more of a barricade situation here," he stated. "Technically, a hostage situation is defined as a crisis which occurs when one or more people are held against their will with their release contingent on certain demands being met. So far, this guy's not made any demands. Actually it sounds like he doesn't know what the hell is going on."

"Jay's behaviour thus far would certainly suggest this is the case," Huang spoke up. "His comment, "It wasn't supposed to happen like that" lends to the conclusion that, whatever his goal is, he probably never intended to take hostages to achieve it."

"The fact that Fin, Olivia and Doc Warner _are_ his hostages right now kinda suggests otherwise," Elliot said shortly.

"Actually," the profiler went on unfazed by Stabler's temper. "I honestly don't think he wanted to hurt anyone. Think about it. He forced people from the building before going to the morgue and the office technicians we talked to said the only one of the two that were rough was this accomplice." He looked at Cragen, continuing in his characteristically calm tenor. "Melinda was working later than usual tonight. Detective Tutuola went to the morgue as a favor to her, and Olivia just accompanied him. There's nothing to suggest there was an hostile intent against anyone." He shrugged. "I think the three of them were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I don't believe this," Elliot snorted angrily.

"Detective," Cragen cut him off with a warning glare. "What do we know about this accomplice yet," he asked no one in particular. "Anything?"

A computer tech from the precinct handed him a sheet of paper with notes written next to the driver's license photo. "Ryan Wallace, age thirty-seven. Works demolitions for Massachusetts, lives in Boston."

The man was slightly overweight with no neck. His face was round face and an uneven beard was trimmed close to his skin. His eyes were small and hair the license stated was brown was already receding. He could have been in his forties.

"Background check turn up anything interesting?" Munch asked, his shoulders tense. His usual sardonic mannerisms were gone and the man was nothing but business.

"Clean as a whistle," the tech replied to their disappointment. "Never been convicted on any charges, misdemeanor or otherwise. One speeding ticket when he was seventeen, that's it." Oddly, though, the tech was grinning.

Cragen frowned at him. "I've either got something up my nose, or you're about to make me a very happy man, Ron," he said.

The tech named Ron nodded. "The latter, Captain." He handed Cragen another sheet of paper. "Wallace's father, Benton, was a cop for Boston PD. Worked narcotics. Twelve years ago this guy's squad raided a warehouse in Wakefield and closed a case they'd been on with their homicide for over six months."

Cragen raised an eyebrow. "And why would this news make me such a happy man...?" He didn't follow how it connected to anything or why such a connection, if it existed, was relevant.

"Two years ago, a kid from that raid went parole," he went on. "March of that same year Benton Wallace was shot dead next to his car outside a bar in Cambridge."

"Noooot feelin' any warm fuzzies," Elliot remarked sarcastically.

The technician reached out to the papers in Cragen's hand and flipped a page. "Wallace's killer? Same kid." Eyebrows went up. "It gets better." He turned another page and smiled. "Benton Wallace was Jay Wheylan's uncle. He and Ryan Wallace are first cousins."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Jesus Christ," Elliot muttered. "The son of a bitch's had an agenda the whole time."

"So he lives with this anger over his uncle's death for two years," Cragen puzzled. "But the Chaumont cases tosses him over the edge?"

"Jay never mentioned this incident with his uncle in any of my encounters with him," Huang said. "But my guess would be that the catalyst for his sudden destabilization now was Angela," he supplied. "It wasn't just the cop the perp hurt this time, and in fact the cop himself wasn't actually harmed. But a child was killed."

"Captain!"

Heads turned and followed a frenzied looking A.D.A Alexandra Cabot as she breezed into the congested squad room. She looked even stranger than Munch; her hair, usually with every blond strand exactly in its place, was in a loose disheveled ponytail and she was dressed in blue warm-up pants and a white sweatshirt. She had her glasses on and Elliot was fairly certain she was wearing neither make-up nor bra.

"I just heard." She sounded slightly out of breath as she looked at them all. "Donnelly called me, and it's all over the news. I came as fast as I could. What do we know?"

It was Cragen who answered her. "Olivia and Fin are okay, but Warner got hit in the crossfire."

"Oh my God," Alex looked horror-struck and put a hand over her mouth. She'd had lunch with both women less than twelve hours ago.

"She took a bullet to the knee," Elliot supplied before she got too upset. "Olivia said she and Fin stopped the bleeding and closed it up...doc told them she was all right."

"You talked to them." Alex looked between Elliot and Cragen incredulously, knowing as they did how unusual it was for the negotiation team to actually talk to a hostage.

"To Olivia," Cragen nodded once. "On her mobile. Wheylan won't talk to us yet. We have an hour and then we call again."

"Speakina mobiles.." Elliot craned his head around, searching the room. "David!" He hollered and the same man he'd talked to earlier weaved his way over. "What've you got for me?" He put a hand on David's shoulder.

"You're not going to like it," the man said solemnly. "Detective Benson's phone is the same as my wife's. If Marci's phone is fully charged and she doesn't plug it back in between when she takes it off the charger and when it goes dead, the battery usually lasts about two days. Give or take a few hours depending on how much she's actually using it during that time."

"Liv said her phone was fully charged on Sunday," Elliot said to Cragen.

"So we've got twenty-four hours?" The captain looked to David for confirmation. "Give or take?"

David hesitated, and shook his head negatively. "We don't know when she put it on its charger. Assuming she did so Saturday night so it would be ready on Sunday, her phone would have been fully charged for only about half of Sunday. The second she takes it off and uses it, that count goes down." He looked at the clock. "In twenty minutes, it'll be Tuesday," he said. "With the continual use the phone's going to be put through I'd say her battery's got fifteen, maybe eighteen hours max left before it kills."

Munch made a noise deep in his throat and sat down heavily, rubbing his forehead. Alex put a hand on his shoulder.

Elliot looked at the same clock David had referenced like a man who's about to be executed counts days. Eighteen hours, he thought on the high end of the estimation. The clock's hands stated that it was 11:40.

Seven.

They had until seven o'clock tomorrow night to talk Jay Wheylan down and get his hostages released. After that contact would be severed entirely and other, more extreme measures would have to be taken to achieve resolution.

When the sun set on Manhattan tomorrow night, Elliot and John would either be taking their partners in their arms...Or on Wednesday Captain Donald Cragen would be conducting funeral services over three caskets draped with flags.

The countdown had begun.

**End Part 6**

A/N - Please review if you haven't already ((begs)) :D Many, _many_ thanks to those of you still following the story :) You're what keeps it going!


	7. Eye of the Beast Hours 2 through 5

CHAPTER TITLE: "Eye of the Beast (Hours 2-5)"

PAIRINGS: None specified

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Lots of language, more implied violence. Big ol' angst fest.

SUMMARY: See parent chapter (Zero Hour)

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: _The 'hour' at the top of each segment is counted from the top of that hour, regardless of the actual time stated in parentheses. Hour 2 is first because the official first hour of the standoff ended around 10 pm at the end of the last chapter_.

**"Eye of the Beast (Hours 2-5)"**

**Hour 2  
(12:11 am)  
Tuesday Jan 21st  
Autopsy suite, County Coroner's building**

The only noise in the sterile and blue-tile walled room was the ticking of the clock on the far wall and the sounds of instruments clinking and drawers opening and closing. Fin's eyes discreetly tracked the two men. Ryan Wallace was bored, going through cupboards and going over tray tables, picking things up, looking at them, laying them back down. Jay was sitting on a swivel stool at one of the counters nearest the three unlucky hostages, his elbows on the countertop, his head in his hands. At the moment, neither men had their weapons pointed at the three, nor even had them in hand. Fin took note of this fact, and risked a glance to his right.

Warner had her head back against the cupboard doors, her eyes were closed. She shifted, groaning softly as she tried to get comfortable. Benson was still holding one of her hands, rubbing that arm soothingly. Olivia's eyes, though, were just as carefully as Fin's, following the movements of their captors around the emergency lit suite. She caught Tutuola's glance and he flicked his eyes in Ryan's direction; the other man was on the far side of the room going through an overhead cabinet. With a slight nod of understanding passing between the two officers, Olivia looked up to where Jay was sitting and Fin locked his eyes on Wallace.

"Jay?" Her alto voice was low and quiet and cautious...she neither wanted to upset Wheylan nor risk Ryan getting out of control again. But it had been over thirty minutes and the silence was more unsettling than the chaos an hour ago had been.

Sniff. "What."

"Captain Cragen is going to be calling back in a little while," she ventured softly.

He wiped his eyes. "I dunno what to say."

Jackpot. Fin and Olivia shared a glance...she had her foot in the door and they knew it. And Jay had just given her a reason to squeeze the rest of the way in.

"When I have trouble saying something to someone, I find thinking out loud first helps," she said slyly. "Y'know, before I talk to them."

He sniffed again and turned to look at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled back. "Why don't you sound off me first, before he calls," she suggested. "Get what you want to say organized, make it as easy as possible for him to understand things."

Fin watched Ryan continuously and carefully - he was playing with the microscopes and oblivious to the fledgling negotiation going on behind him.

Jay took a shaky breath. "I... No one was supposed to be around."

"Around.." Olivia repeated slowly. "Around...here?"

Wheylan nodded. "I was just gonna come over, take some pictures." He pulled a digital camera from his coat pocket and set it on the counter next to his gun. He shook his head. "We came in, I thought the guard was the only one on. And then I see people still in the offices. I didn't want 'em to get hurt, so I made 'em all leave. Ryan got pushy with some, I couldn't keep him quiet." He sniffed back a bit of emotion and curiously looked again at the double doors that led to the hallway. "No one was supposed to be down here," he muttered, his eyes red. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

"Jay," Olivia began gently. "We understand that this was an accident," she said of Warner. "No one blames you."

Jay glanced at Melinda fearfully, then looked back at Olivia. "She's gonna be okay though, right?"

Benson looked at her friend for a moment. "She's okay right now, Jay." She looked back up. "But she really needs to have professionals take a look. They need to treat it properly."

Wheylan nodded but didn't say anything. Olivia forged onward, fully aware that under normal hostage situations, the hostage was not under any circumstances to try negotiating with their captor. This was not a normal hostage situation, she was realizing.

"Okay. How about, when Captain Cragen calls back, we tell him exactly what happened," she suggested, her use of 'we' instead of 'you' putting her on an even keel with him. If nothing else, it let him know she was just as determined as he was to end this peacefully."We'll tell him what you really wanted, what was supposed to happen. If he agrees to help, what d'you say we let someone come get Melinda, take her to a hospital."

Scratching the back of his neck with one hand, Jay studied her for a moment. "I don't want anyone else coming down here," he said. "I don't want him goin off again and hurting someone else." He jerked his head at his cousin.

Olivia nodded. "Okay. That's okay. We'll work something out." He looked a bit calmer. "Why don't you tell me exactly what you want to tell Captain Cragen, just like you want him to hear it. Work out the nerves before you get on the phone."

"Yeah." He took a deeper, steadier breath. "Yeah okay."

"Stooge number two's about to get interested," Fin muttered at her under his breath. Ryan's boredom with the situation was winning out over his curiosity of the morgue equipment and any second he knew the man would be back over near them harassing Jay to do something. A second later, just as predicted, Ryan was wandering back their direction as Jay started speaking.

"What're you telling them?" He asked suspiciously.

"Look man, drop the attitude all right?" Jay sent back. "I'm just thinking out loud, before the Cap calls back so I know exactly what to tell him."

"Fucking retard," Wallace mumbled under his breath and shook his head with a roll of his eyes. He didn't comment further though, and Jay turned back to Olivia.

**(12:30 am)****  
****Precinct**

"Captain Cragen."

Don shook hands with one of the city maintenance consultants working with the negotiation team. "Thank you for coming. I know it's late." He looked at the rolled papers in the man's hands. "What've you got for us?"

"Good news I hope," he replied. Space on a couple of desks was cleared and the building plans laid out. John set a stapler on one corner, a coffee mug on another to keep them from rolling back in on themselves. Six men crowded around and bent low.

"We've got three possible access points. Sewage lines here and here," the man pointed to cylindrical lines on the paper on either side of what Cragen assumed was Melinda's building. "An underground electrical line runs in-between the east wall and that side sewage line."

"I wouldn't think there'd be much space in that for someone to get in and run optics through," Elliot remarked.

"Ordinarily there wouldn't be," the technician affirmed. "But this is New York. We have to compensate for the moisture here on the East Coast. As a rule there's about a foot and a half of space between the electrical lines and the walls of the tunnels they're run through. The lines run right through the center. Keeps them dry, less chance for shortages and disruptions in the city's power grid systems."

"Foot and a half on either side," John mused, "That's only about three feet all the way around."

"It's tight," the man agreed. "But of the three, this electrical line is the only place that runs exactly flush with the outside wall of the morgue. With the sewage lines, there's about five feet of solid concrete in the way. This is your best bet."

Phil Aston, the crisis team's team leader rubbed at his face. "Cutting through to that's gonna make a hell of a lotta noise," he said, concerned.

"You won't need to." The technician smiled and rolled a page over. "There's an access shaft in the street right out in front of the building's main entrance." He showed them. "NYPA guys are in it all the time," he said of New York Power Authority, the state's largest power company. "The tunnel leads right to the circuit breakers for the electrical lines adjacent to the basement. You unscrew one panel in the ceiling of that tunnel, squeeze one of your guys' shoulders up about two feet, and you're in. Only drilling you need to do is through the outer wall and then the inside wall of the autopsy suite. Two feet max. You get it right, your optics will come out somewhere along the bottom of the southeast wall."

Eyes turned to Cragen, who nodded. "Let's do it. I want a relay set up between those optic lines and this station. Everything that camera sees, _I_ want to see right here."

"My techs can have it set up in two hours," Aston promised and without needing prompting he spoke into his radio. Network IP addresses were swapped, computer speak swirled around like a second language, and Phil moved out of the squad room.

"Don."

Cragen looked right. Huang was looking at him with a small, almost apologetic smile. "It's time," he said quietly. Cragen, Elliot, and John each looked at the clock simultaneously, the looks on their faces the same. 12:40. Had it already been an hour?

The captain's heart raced a bit as he sat back down and slid his headset on. He found himself running through possibilities is his head. What if something had happened between when he'd last spoken to Olivia and when he called now? He was almost scared to know - they'd all have been completely ignorant to anything. He took a deep breath and dialed Olivia's mobile number as Elliot and John either sat or stood right next to him.

They waited.

Four rings.

Seven.

"Benson."

Cragen clenched shaking hands as she picked up on the eighth. "It's good to hear you, detective."

"Likewise Captain."

Huang just sat listening. It was not time for his intervention yet. At the moment he could allow the captain these words with his officer. He wasn't going to get many more once Jay started talking to them.

"How're you doing in there?" Don asked.

"We're all right," she responded affirmatively. Elliot thought he detected a note of ... was it optimism? Her tone was a little more open, a little less tense. Like she wasn't having to be quite as careful when she spoke nor with what she said.

"Warner?"

"It's under control at the moment. She's uncomfortable, but shock doesn't seem to be a threat anymore." She surprised them all by adding, almost conversationally, "Jay'd like to talk you, Cap."

Cragen looked at Huang, who nodded. "Okay," he said after a breath. "Put him on."

Silence.

They heard her through the phone saying quietly, "It's all right, Jay. Just tell him what you told me. Exactly like you told me."

Once again, Elliot marveled with a swell of pride, his partner had managed to connect with the seemingly unreachable in even the most harrowing of circumstances.

A few more seconds passed with nothing, and then a man cleared his throat. "Captain...?"

Don sat up a little straighter. "Jay," he said in a neutral tone, as Huang had instructed him to do when they made contact again. "Olivia said you wanted to talk to me." Huang had earlier advised him to keep on a first name basis with the man, putting everyone on an equal level and thus making Jay feel he was speaking with just regular people instead of superiors or subordinates.

"Yeah, yeah. I uh...I did." He was nervous.

"Jay, just talk to him like we talked," they heard Olivia say in the background.

Cragen went to open his mouth but Huang put a hand on his arm. "Don't push the conversation yet," the profiler said in a quiet voice. "He's nervous and uncertain how much to trust. Let him come to you."

The frustrating patience paid off. "I uh...I'm really sorry about all of this Captain," Wheylan muttered.

"Keep his focus away from blaming himself," Huang said.

"We know, Jay," Cragen followed. "Olivia told us it was an accident. We know you didn't want to hurt anyone."

"That's good," George nodded encouragingly. "Boost this affirmation. Acknowledge his good will thus far."

Cragen heard but his eyes were focused ahead of him as he concentrated. "That's why you cleared the offices first, isn't it Jay...because you were concerned about everyone there."

"Yeah," Jay sniffed. "Yeah that's just it, I didn't think anyone would be here this late."

"Let him know he's coming across clearly. Lead him with statements, not questions..."

"You wanted to go there alone," Cragen, as per the profiler's continual guidance, stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah." They heard the shriek of what sounded like a stool's legs sliding against the morgue's hard floors. A deep breath. "I just...I got so sick of the perps going after the cops. I just wanted to take some pictures. Y'know, of the place, of the morgue. Ryan was going to help. Just with the camera. Take some of the pictures while I pointed stuff out, that kinda thing. I was just going to put 'em up on this website. Thought maybe if I did some informational type shit, they'd get the ideas that the cops just get their stuff from somewhere else. Y'know, cause our cases, all of 'em, they're solved in places like this first anyway. But there were still people here, and he thought it'd be cool to carry a gun and..."

"Oh what the hell! You gonna tell 'em people still being in the fucking building was my fault too?" They heard Ryan snap.

There was a pause as Jay and his cousin bickered off speaker and the negotiation team considered how best to handle things now with this information. There _had_ been no hostile intent. In fact, Cragen thought, if he'd left his cousin out of it, this probably wouldn't even be happening.

"Acknowledge the reasons for his anger," Huang instructed after a moment's contemplation. "Sympathize with the emotion."

Cragen nodded. "Jay," he began gently. "I know about your uncle. I understand why that would've made you so angry. I have to admit I'd be pretty upset too. It's uh...it's not easy to lose someone you care about," he added, with real emotion this time as an image of his late wife ambushed him. He paused, unsure where to go next.

"You're doing fine," Huang assured him from the sidelines. "We've established his intent, you've made a personal connection. Test his trust, we need to know how deep the connection goes and determine whether or not it needs to be strengthened."

"Jay," Don said after a second. Despite the weather outside, he was sweating...beads of perspiration shone like glass on his forehead and a dark smudge was showing at the neck of his shirt. "I know you didn't want things to go down this way. I think I speak for a lot of people when I say I wanna get this over with as fast as I imagine you do."

A little laugh from him sounded through the speaker phone. John stole a glance at Elliot. The detective was a statue, standing with his legs spread wide, his arms over his chest, his forehead creased. Munch could see through it, however, and could see a tiny tear forming in the middle of his heart. Like a run in a woman's nylons - it was small, undetectable to the untrained eye but little by little though, it would spread. Stress would eat it away until the tear ran the entire length of his composure, ripping through material until it reached a seam and shredded his soul.

It was the same tear John could feel opening in his own chest.

"You didn't want anyone hurt," Cragen was saying when Munch refocused. "I don't want anyone to get hurt. We're in the same ballgame here. Tell me what I can do to help this end as peacefully as possible for all of us..."

"You've been talkin forever," Wallace complained. "What're you saying to them?"

They heard Jay sigh. "Ryan, do y_ou_ wanna talk to him?"

Silence.

"Then shut the hell up." He paused and spoke again to Cragen, sounding weary. "I uh...I don't really know what to do here, Cap."

There was a prolonged pause. Then, rather surprisingly, they heard Fin speak in the background. "It ain't up to us, Jay," he said, as if during the pause Jay had been looking to the two detectives for help. "Ends when you say it ends. How 'bout you let us get Doc Warner outta here, though. We can work on what to do after that, huh? What d'ya say."

The crisis team held a collective breath, and then released it when Jay came back on the phone with, "I want to let doc Warner out."

Cragen blew out a breath. "Okay Jay. I think that's best."

"Appreciate it," Huang prompted from his side. "It's a gesture of good faith, and carries weight."

"Thank you for seeing that she needs medical attention, Jay," Cragen said sincerely. "I know I speak for her husband as well when I say that it means a lot to a lot of people."

"I uh..." he cleared his throat nervously. "I don't want anyone coming down here though," he said. "Can I uh...can I figure something out first?"

Don looked at Huang. The profiler nodded. "Yeah okay Jay," he said into his headset. "We'll play it the way you need it to go. You tell us what you'd like to do, and we'll go with that."

"Yeah. Thanks. I ...can I call you back in a little bit?"

Huang again nodded but said, "We need to keep some control. Give him a time limit."

"You bet," Cragen affirmed to the man. "Should we say we'll talk again in another hour?"

A long pause. Huang shook his head and held up two fingers.

"How about two," Cragen amended. "Give you plenty of time to work through what you need to before we talk again."

Another pause, then, "Yeah okay. That'd be okay. I'll call in a couple hours."

"I'll be here, Jay." And the line went dead.

"Cap," Elliot started but Don held up a weary hand as he removed his headset.

"We take what we get, Elliot. I need air." Without speaking to anyone, or letting anyone else speak to him, Cragen pushed through the crowded squad room and headed towards the front doors.

Elliot watched him go and then turned to John to elicit his help. Munch, however, was not interested. The older man, in an uncharacteristic display of emotion, flung some papers off the desk with a sweep of his palm and pushed his chair back. He left the room in much the same fashion as his captain.

Elliot rubbed a hand down his face and sighed heavily.

"It takes time, Elliot," Alex said quietly. She'd been staying in the shadows, watching and listening to the proceedings silently.

He didn't reply. Not because he didn't know what to say.

But because it was the last thing he wanted to hear said.

**Hour 4  
(2:30 am)  
Precinct**

Tempers had not cooled much as the negotiation team sat back down in the squad room. In the break given them by Jay's two hour time limit, a stealth team had gotten inside the main office and managed, without being detected, to pull the security tapes. The squad room had since gotten a front row view of everything that had happened from fiver after nine last night to about thirty minutes ago. Jay and his cousin entering the building, clearing the offices, storming the morgue. All of it. Elliot had audibly murmured a tense "No!" as, while they watched Olivia reach for some paper towels, Jay's cousin had pressed the barrel of his pistol to her head. Events had calmed somewhat after she and Fin had controlled Warner's bleeding, and the remainder of what tape they had managed to secure showed the three of them simply sitting on the floor against the counters, saying nothing as Jay paced and yelled at Wallace and Wallace tossed obscenities right back.

The two hours passed, and Cragen now again had the headset on with Huang right next to him ready to guide him through the conversations. There was an unspoken fear drifting through the room that Jay would not call back as agreed.

Cragen, fully not expecting him to, jumped when the squad room phone began ringing. He forced himself back under a cool control as he picked up and spoke into his mouthpiece. "Jay?"

"Yeah, Cap."

"I appreciate you calling back," Don said, this time without needing prompting from Huang. He'd done these before, but it was nice to have the backup when his mind froze and words failed him. "Have you decided how we're going to get to doc Warner?"

"Yeah, yeah I did. I uh, I know there's probably people crawling all over the place," he began. "But I don't want anyone upstairs. They're gonna help her up, y'know, to the doors, and the bus can be waiting there. I just, I don't want anyone inside," he repeated.

Cragen frowned slightly. "You say 'they' are going to help her, Jay. Do you mean Olivia and Fin?"

"Yeah."

A surge of something rushed Elliot Stabler and he felt hot and cold flash through him at the same time.

"Okay," Cragen nodded to himself. "We'll have a bus and some EMT's waiting outside the doors." He did not ask about the body they'd seen in the hall outside the autopsy suite on the security tapes. He had to concentrate on the live hostages first. And reminding Jay of something he'd never intended to happen was, without being told so, very unwise. "When would you like to do this?"

"Um..." There was a stagnant pause as he obviously thought about the question. "Fifteen minutes? Yeah. Yeah, I'll send 'em up in fifteen."

"Fifteen minutes then," Cragen confirmed, and then Jay hung up.

Elliot wasted no time. "Captain, request permission to be there with that EMT crew." The words had hardly come out intelligibly they'd been spoken so fast.

"Denied," Cragen said flatly.

"Captain.."

"Elliot we can't have this handoff compromised," Don said firmly. He took a second to look the other man over. And the look on Elliot's face made him relent as empathy flooded him. A glimpse, even a brief one, was better than nothing until the optics were in place in another thirty minutes. "All right, but you go JUST to help Warner," he said sternly, both to Elliot _and_ John, because Munch had the same look on his face as Elliot. "I want you out of the way."

John grabbed his coat from the wall and with a clap on his arm from Elliot, the two half-walked, half-jogged from the squad room.

**Autopsy Suite**

Jay closed the flip phone and set it on the countertop. "Okay. Out she goes." He walked over to where Olivia, Fin, and Warner sat and reached a hand down to Fin.

Fin looked at it briefly, then reached up. The two men clasped wrists and Jay pulled the detective to his feet. "Thanks man," he said quietly, and meant it.

Wheylan helped Olivia up, and then he and Fin carefully pulled Warner to her feet. They put Fin's jacket on her, and then Olivia's coat over that and then helped balance her between Olivia and Tutuola. She had an arm draped over each of their shoulders and they had her waist wrapped tightly from behind.

"You okay?" Olivia asked as Melinda gasped and caught her breath.

"Yeah," Warner lied, her face ashen. "Too vertical too fast." She offered a small smile and when they were certain she wasn't about to pass out on them, they started to move towards the double doors.

"Whoa, whoa...wait a minute." Wallace was looking between the trio and his older cousin. "You're just gonna let them all go together?"

Jay shrugged. "How else are they going to get the doc out the door to the bus? Can't walk out on her own, now can she," he added with accusatory snip to his tone.

"How do you know they won't just run when they get out there, huh?" Ryan said challengingly.

"God, you're paranoid. You're worried about them skating, fine." Jay waved his hand at his cousin. "You go with them."

"Are you crazy! I'm not going up there...you know how it works, and it's the same on them dumb cop shows. They'll have snipers and shit all over the place."

Olivia and Fin, a shaky Warner supported between them, shared a nervous glance. Neither were surprised when Ryan spoke up again.

"I got it. One goes up with the doc, the other stays here with us." He looked at them, then pointed his gun at Fin. "You. She don't come back down," he said to Jay. "We shoot _him_."

"What?" Jay laughed incredulously.

"No," Ryan pointed his gun at Jay. "We're gonna do this one _my_ way 'cause I'm not gonna have no SWAT team come storming down here and get a bullet between the eyes because you were too stupid to think this through." He swung the gun back towards Fin. "Help 'em to the stairs. Then sit back down." He looked at Olivia. "You got ten minutes to get your ass back in this room."

"I'll come back, Jay," Benson said with feeling. "You know I will. He doesn't have to toss around threats."

"Yeah?" Ryan replied before Wheylan could. "Well this'll just make me a little more certain you'll keep your word." Wallace looked at his watch. "Nine minutes."

They left the autopsy suite without another word. The moment they stepped outside it and turned the corner, however, Warner let out a cry and Olivia felt her sag between her and Fin.

"Christ," Fin muttered, at the same pulling Warner to his chest and holding the back of her head firmly with one hand. "Don't look, baby," he murmured and with a nod at Olivia, kept walking. "Don't look."

Dante, the lab tech Warner had sent up to Evidence, was lying on the floor in the hall, a hole in his chest and a pool of red spread out around the floor beneath him. Olivia looked at him in horror and anguish as she helped Fin hold Warner's trembling frame between them. Now she knew why Jay kept looking at the doors with guilt, knew what it was she and Fin had heard hitting the floor in the hall just before Jay and his cousin had burst into the suite.

It had been Dante. He was dead.

They moved away from the grisly discovery as fast as they could. When the three of them got to the door of the stairwell, Fin stopped them and looked straight at Benson. "Listen up. You get topside, you get your ass outta this building with Warner," he said firmly with a nod at Melinda. Warner's face was pale and tear-streaked, she didn't focus on either detective.

"No." Olivia shook her head and opened the door.

"Liv.."

"Bullshit!" She turned around and stared right back. Neither said anything, but there were tears threatening in Olivia's eyes. "Don't you play martyr with me, Fin. It's bullshit. I'm not going to let you eat a bullet on my account." Elliot was already taking a professional slug in the gut because of her. She wasn't about to lose Fin as well. "I'm coming back," she whispered firmly.

Fin stared hard at her, looking like he wanted to say something else, then conceded and moved around her to hold the stairwell door open. "Ten minutes I better see your pretty ass back in that morgue," he muttered. "Or you're speakin at my funeral."

Olivia obliged his dark humour with a tense laugh - as phenomenal as she was one-on-one with the human race, they both knew how much she hated public speaking. "Ten minutes," she repeated with a nod as Fin clapped her once on the back. She adjusted her arm more securely around Warner's waist, and then Fin closed the door behind them.

**(2:45 am)**

Elliot couldn't stand still. He felt like he did when his kids were little and he was waiting for them to step from the school bus. He kept glancing at his watch, and then at the double glass paned doors of the main entrance to the building. He and John stood amongst the swath of EMT's and uniformed officers that formed a half circle on the other side of the sidewalk just outside those doors. The tapes and her voice over the phone had confirmed it - she was alive and she was okay - but he had to see it for himself.

"Detectives."

Stabler looked up from the ground and at the doors where the EMT's gaze was directed ... and his heart all but stopped in relief.

The paramedics pulled open the doors and there in the darkened entryway hall stood his partner, supporting a silently crying and shaking Melinda Warner. He watched, transfixed, as the pair made their way to the threshold and then he, along with the EMT's and John, was suddenly surging forwards until they were, as instructed by Cragen, stopped by other officers.

Olivia pulled Warner's arm off from around her shoulders and handed her off to the medics. Warner held on to one of her hands as they got her onto a bed and Olivia just gave it a squeeze. She said something, but it was lost in the freezing snow-filled air. When she looked up and her hair fell back away from her face, Elliot saw against the strobing red and blue around him that the M.E. was not the only one crying. He and John made a quick stop at Warner's bed as it was wheeled past them to the waiting bus, and when he looked up back towards the doors, his heart stopped again.

"Liv!"

Olivia had not moved across the threshold of the open doorway, nor did she make any move to advance to the arms of the SWAT officers reaching for her. In fact, to Stabler's horror, she actually stepped _back_ and out of their range.

"Detective Benson..." One of the team members prompted her. "It's all right, detective," he said soothingly, thinking that some sort of delayed shock was the reason she was just standing there and disregarding aid from the building.

"Will she be okay?" John heard her ask numbly. His eyes searched for Fin, but his own partner was not there.

"Detective.."

"WILL she be okay," Benson demanded again.

"She'll be fine," one of the medics on scene to help her and Fin when they came out assured her.

Olivia nodded, oddly looked at her watch, and then Elliot's breath caught as she stared at the street and just stood there.

"Detective Benson," the SWAT officer reaching for her moved into the doorway and spoke firmly. "Step out of the premises," he prompted her again more urgently. They had to get her out, and they had to get her out now.

'C'mon Liv...' Elliot urged her, trying to catch her eye. 'You don't owe this prick anything...'

She waited until she couldn't see the ambulance bearing Melinda away anymore, and then backed away. This time, however, the SWAT officer was ready for it and he grabbed her elbow.

"Don't _touch_ me!" Munch watched Elliot's face unravel as Olivia forcibly pulled her arm out of the man's grasp and shook her head.

"I can't leave," she said and took a deep breath. Her eyes fell on John and a tear escaped down her cheek.

He felt like he was suffocating as she said almost guiltily, "If I'm not back downstairs in five minutes, Ryan Wallace is threatening to kill Detective Tutuola."

She took another breath that shook and went on, delivering what news she could in the time she had. "Uh..." She rubbed her eyebrow with one hand and Elliot could see it shaking hard. "You should know that Dante Sandoval is dead." She didn't know they'd seen the tapes. "Detective Tutuola and I heard the shot. We believe Wallace is responsible for that as well as for Warner." She was starting to shiver from the draft of the open doorway and for the first time Elliot realized, as she wrapped her arms over themselves, that Warner had been wearing her coat. "His body is in the hallway outside the autopsy suite."

"Olivia." Huang, who had joined the EMT's and the rest of the crisis team crowd for the handoff, spoke softly, concerned as he watched her. It had been almost five hours already. "Are you all right?"

She nodded unconvincingly as another tear fell and she looked at her watch. "I have to go," she whispered. "I made a promise."

She finally found Elliot's face in the crowd and for one electrically charged second, locked eyes with him. She shook her head, almost, it appeared, at herself and then turned and walked back down the dark hall with her head bent.

"Olivia!" Elliot lunged forward, but was stopped when John grabbed him around the chest and held fast.

"Elliot, don't." Munch said firmly, his insides churning.

Stabler watched her back until she opened the stairwell door.

And then the world fell out from under him as the heavy metal door squealed closed and she disappeared with the click of its latch.

**End Part 7**

_A/N - Thank you so much for all the reviews thus far! And yes, I did learn from "Sibling Rivalry"...mainly because I didn't know how to upload in chapters back then, lol. Live 'n' learn, lol. Please review ((puppy dog eyes)) :) _


	8. Eye of the Beast Hours 7 through 10

CHAPTER TITLE: "Eye of the Beast (Hours 7-10)"

PAIRINGS: None specified

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Lots of language, more implied violence. Big ol' angst fest.

SUMMARY: See parent chapter (Zero Hour)

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: _Sorry this took a bit longer to update than the last couple of chapters...Stabler gave me the cold shoulder ((sheepish grin)). Thank you so much for the reviews so far! They mean the world.  
_

**"Eye of the Beast (Hours 7-10)"**

**Hour 7  
(5:18 am)  
Tuesday Jan 21st  
Precinct**

After Warner had made it to Bellevue the crisis team had grudgingly come back to the station and fallen again into their assigned roles. No one spoke to each other. None of the spoke at all really, aside from John letting Cragen know (when the captain gave them all an angry look upon seeing them Fin and Benson-less) about Ryan's threat against Fin if they extracted Olivia. Elliot could not get the image out of his head. His partner, standing not but six feet from him ... and they just let her walk away.

Now the team either sat or stood paying attention only to the tasks which had been assigned them. Cragen and Huang immediately tried to get back on the line with Jay and were now off on a corner of the table speaking in hushed tones. Huang would suggest something, Cragen would repeat it in his own words according to the standing of his relationship with Jay. The HRT tech crew had gotten the fiber optics in just a few minutes after the handoff, and both John and Elliot were far more interested in watching their partners than they were listening to Cragen and Huang try to sweet talk Jay into ignoring his cousin and just ending things now. A couple of other negotiators were standing behind them, watching, on hand to alert Huang to any escalation or incident going on within the autopsy suite that they couldn't ascertain simply talking to Wheylan. It had been two hours now, and there had been no setbacks. There had not been any progress, either.

"John, Elliot."

A rosy cheeked Alex was beside them holding a cardboard carrying case of coffee in one gloved hand. With nothing to do but get in the way, the A.D.A had left for a little while both to see Melinda and to help however she could in making the team comfortable. Simply getting them what they needed when she knew full well no one would leave to do it for themselves. She handed each beleaguered looking detective a cup and set the case on the table. With murmurs of thanks they took it gratefully and John closed his eyes as he pushed the lid up a slit and blew off some steam.

"How's doc Warner?" Elliot asked wearily and took a healthy sip.

"They wouldn't let me see her," she replied. "They took her to surgery to repair the ligament damage and reconstruct her knee. They said she was stable, though, and raising all living hell that they weren't going to let her come back to the station after surgery."

Elliot chuckled tiredly and rubbed his face.

"How's it going?" Cabot nodded at the notebook computer sitting in the middle of the makeshift table. She pulled up a chair and sat next to John.

"You tell me," John said with an uncharacteristic nip to his voice. "Looks like they're having fun, doesn't it?"

Alex looked at the computer and via the link the rescue team technicians had set up, watched the room through the monitor. The fiber optics had come out along the southeast wall near the floor just as planned and the tiny camera was aimed up and right at the two detectives maybe six feet away. With its angle, and the positions of everyone in the suite, even with the dim yellow emergency lighting Alex could see Jay and his cousin as well. Jay was on Olivia's cell phone, Ryan was sitting in a desk chair with his feet up on a table obviously listening to the conversation because, even though the volume was kept down, they could hear him interject a comment or an insult every once in a while.

Alex's heart twisted and a cold anxiety began to settle in her chest. Olivia was curled in on herself, her knees drawn up close to her chest and her arms crossed and tucked in against her body. Fin was sitting right next to her, legs also bent up close, discreetly blowing in hands cupped in front of his face. Each were watching Jay and Ryan warily, and both looked like they could curl up in a dark room and sleep for days. It was plainly pretty cold in that basement already and it didn't appear Benson's peach coloured Lycra stretch shirt was doing her any sort of good.

Cabot shook her head slightly. "How cold is it in there?" She looked up towards one of the other personnel lingering nearby, searching for hopeful news she was not likely to hear.

One of the technicians answered in kind. "We're guessing the suite was sitting at around 68, 69 degrees last night. Seven hours with the power off..." He shrugged and looked left at an EMT. "It's dropped around the low to mid 50's."

Alex closed her eyes. God. Jay and his cousin still had they're coats on, but Olivia and Fin had given theirs to Warner...they were probably freezing. She was heartsick.

"High 50's if there's good insulation," the EMT offered. "We're watching the readings from the optics pretty closely," he assured her. It didn't work. It had stopped snowing around three-thirty this morning. The cloud cover had lifted, and temperatures outside had since plummeted into the teens.

John made a snort. "And will do what, exactly, if it gets below," he made quotation marks with his fingers, "acceptable levels." One cynical eyebrow arched in question.

No one answered.

Munch shook his head and pushed his chair back. "City's best and brightest," he muttered testily.

"John," Alex began gently in their defense. There was nothing they _could_ do. Nothing anyone could do yet.

"Save the closing arguments for the courtroom, counselor," he snapped as he stood and started to walk away. Restrooms, outside in the butt freezing cold, he didn't care. He just had to leave.

Alex watched him. She looked at Elliot - his eyes were still glued to the computer monitor, but as if sensing someone was watching him, he turned and they locked eyes. Hers looked lost, she didn't know what to do, what to say, to either him OR John. And obviously, she'd just said the wrong thing to one of them.

Elliot offered a small smile and put her out of her misery with a reassuring, "I'll go talk to him."

He left, his sneakers squeaking softly on the hard floor as he trudged after John. Alex slumped back into her seat, feeling powerless. She focused once more on the monitor, watching the other two detectives as the quiet conversation between Captain Cragen and their captors played out through the speaker phone down the table.

**xxx**

Elliot stood for a long time not saying a word. He found Munch outside, sitting on a crate next to the Dumpster behind the station house. He was wearing neither coat nor hat and gloves. The light on the brick wall above the door turned the breath leaving his lips a pale yellow. He was staring out down the alley towards the street, where the red and blue and white from patrol car lights still going full tilt bounced off the other buildings. He didn't seem aware that Stabler was watching him, or that he'd even come outside with him.

"You going for the slow peaceful death?" Elliot crossed his arms. Not knowing where John had gone off to, he'd not grabbed his coat either and his sweatshirt was useless in this cold. John blinked, turned his head. Elliot offered a tight smile. "I've heard with hypothermia you just get tired first. Y'know, doze off, close your eyes..." He walked towards the other man and sat on an overturned plastic bucket. "Next thing you know you're singin to Saint Peter."

He turned his face away again. "It feels good," John replied lamely.

"John, it's fifteen degrees out here."

"Yeah well it's better than sitting nice and cozy warm in there," came the bitter reply. And Elliot understood. Munch felt guilty. Guilty that he was able to sit inside the station house drinking coffee where it was warm while his partner was in the basement of a morgue without heat and the temperature still falling. Elliot understood this. God, how he understood the guilt. Munch wasn't the only one with a vital organ missing right now...

"Am I in contempt?" John asked after a moment of quiet contemplation from them both.

"She's just trying to help." Stabler recalled the helpless look on Cabot's face.

"It's not working."

"I know. I don't think she took it personally anyway."

Silence. The minutes ticked by. "You know I've been thinking," John went on in a contemplative manner and in a voice deeper than usual. It didn't look like he was bothered at all by the cold. Elliot honestly didn't think he even noticed it.

"About?"

"Today. Last night. Wondering what I'd have done differently if we'd known."

Elliot said nothing. He knew what he'd have done differently...or rather, not done. He pushed a lump down back into his stomach. John didn't keep going though, so Stabler obliged his need to talk by asking quietly, "What'd you come up with?"

There was a long pause between them and then John looked seriously at Elliot. With a straight face he said, "I'd have planted one on 'im. Full view of the rest of the station."

Beat. Neither man reacted. And then Elliot couldn't help himself, and his angular face split into a grin. A second later, John's features followed suit. Suddenly both men were chuckling. Chuckles evolved and turned into full belly laughs that ricocheted around off the close walls of the snow-filled alley.

As usual, John Munch deflected seriousness with humour, but what most people couldn't see was the depth of the emotion beneath the sarcasm. Elliot wasn't "most people." He knew. He could see, he understood. He felt the same.

John cared about his partner. Intensely so.

After a few minutes the laughing died down and both men were wiping at watery eyes that, neither would admit to the other, had nothing to do with the joke they'd just shared in. They'd shared something quite a bit more personal.

"C'mon." Elliot clapped John on the back and stood sniffing. "I'm freezing my ass off."

John stood as well and Elliot left his hand on the man's shoulder as he opened the door and they went back inside.

The demons exorcised in the alley stayed there, drifting like fog and then vanishing into the frigid air as the metal door squealed and clunked shut.

**Hour 9  
(7:25 am)  
Autopsy suite**

They'd reached a stalemate. Without having to hear the captain's side of the conversation, Fin could tell he was getting farther and farther in the door with Jay. Jay wanted out. He was tired, he just wanted things to end. The problem lay with the fact that Jay was _so_ tired of things, he was fighting his cousin less and less and consequently putting Ryan in more and more control over him. Wallace seemed intent on wanting out without consequence, which considering the fact he'd blown Warner's knee out and shot and killed her autopsy tech, just wasn't going to happen. Everything Jay said, Ryan argued with, and then Jay would give in and amend his requests to Cragen in pacification of the incessant complaints.

Fin looked to his side at Benson. He frowned. She'd been sitting in the same position now for over three hours. Every now and again he caught a twitch in the expression on her face when she shifted. He was stiff. From sitting for so long as well as from the cold. If he was stiff, she was stiff, and regardless of the fact the sling had been ditched over the weekend, her shoulder was probably killing her. And if she'd gotten up on Monday morning anywhere near the time he had, then she'd been awake now for over twenty-four hours solid. Her eyes, however...her eyes were alert and focused and glued to Jay. Fin could tell just by looking at them that she was working out what to say next, figuring out how best to connect to him again.

Neither detective had spoken to either man since the handoff. With Ryan having asserted himself as a credible threat instead of just a sidekick, talking at all, even to each other was a risk. One they couldn't take unless they had a plan should an attempt backfire in their faces.

Heaving a muffled sigh, Fin blew into his hands again and then tucked them under an arm each. John SO owed him breakfast when this shit was over.

**xxx  
Precinct**

Don blew out a long breath and rested his forehead in one hand. He was beyond frustrated. He'd batted around everything from the weather to sports with Jay and then after what seemed like hours of casual conversation, the captain would carefully guide them back to the situation. Back and forth, back and forth. He'd be so close to reaching resolution, and then the blasted cousin would step in and say something and Jay would backtrack.

Huang was just as frustrated. After a long pause during which his eyes were fixed on the scene displayed before him on the monitor, he came to a decision. "We need a break," he said to Cragen. "Jay needs it, and you need it."

"I'm not leaving," Don said stubbornly. "Not until this is over."

"Don." George looked at him gently. "It's been five hours and we've gotten nothing accomplished. We're no closer to getting him to stand down than we were when we started. Olivia's batteries are on the clock. We need a new approach, and we have to come at it again fresh."

Cragen sighed and then nodded. "Jay," he said. "I've always prided myself on being pretty perceptive. You look pretty tired." He new procedure, but thank God Jay hadn't told his cousin about the fact they had surveillance equipment trained on them. "I'm pretty tired myself. What d'you say we take a bit of a break. Come back when we've both had time to think."

He watched as Jay rubbed the back of his neck. Nodded. "Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah that'd be good I think."

"Appeal to his physical needs," Huang guided. "Touch his humanity."

"There anything you need down there? Anything we can get?"

Pause. He watched Jay turn to Ryan. "You want anything?"

"Yeah. Fucking heat turned back on."

"I already told you, man, they can't do it. They do, and we'll have SWAT comin through those bay doors just like you don't want them to." He nodded at the large doors on the opposite side of the room that let ambulances bearing the dead back right up to the autopsy suite.

"Fine. Whatever. Coffee then. Maybe a bagel. I'm starving."

"Yeah, Cap." Jay got back on. "Look could we get something to eat maybe? Bagels or donuts or something? Maybe a coffee or something?"

"You bet," Cragen said firmly. Basic needs of survival were one of those things that were negotiable without debate. "We'll get on it."

"Yeah I just...I still don't want anyone comin in here though y'know?"

Cragen paused. One of the HRT computer technicians had suddenly perked up and two of them began talking quickly to each other. "Ok Jay," he said into the headset. "We'll see what we can do." He looked at the monitor, and decided to go for a little something extra, this time for the other people in the room. Reassert his approval of Jay's compassion so far.

"Look, it seems like its pretty cold in there. How about we send a couple of jackets in with breakfast."

"Yeah. That'd be okay." Jay seemed to know what he was getting at, because without being asked, he said, "Look Cap, Ryan's buggin me. Wants to talk private or some shit. Here."

He surprised them all. They watched on the monitor as he tossed the sleek phone to Olivia. She didn't even have time to actually catch it, it just kind of landed in her lap.

"The hell are you doing?" Ryan demanded.

"Relax," Jay said, tired. "We'll make her hang up before we go."

Cragen was glued to the monitor, as was everyone else on the squad, as Benson looked at both men cautiously before bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Olivia," Don said before she could speak. It'd been hours since he'd last spoken to her.

"Captain."

"How're you and Fin holding up?"

Pause. "We're uh..." She looked at Tutuola. "We're okay," she said carefully. She didn't look it yet, but she sounded exhausted. "It's getting a little chilly though."

"You should have worn long sleeves," he said cryptically, subtly letting her know that they were being watched. "Don't look," he commanded her before head could swivel in an attempt to see it. "Southeast wall. Near the floor." He cheered her as her head remained stationary but her eyes flicked to that spot. They tracked for a moment.

"Yes," they heard Elliot breathe in relief and he lightly punched the air with a fist as she made "eye contact" with the line. She stared. They stared back. A split second later, she dazzled the squad room with the smallest of smiles. And then, so as not to arouse suspicion, she looked right away.

It was stupid. It was a fiber optic cable the width of her pinkie finger with sensors and a micro camera attached. A damn wire. Nonetheless, Olivia was swept with a feeling of comfort at the knowledge that their people were watching them. Made it feel almost as if they were in the room instead of across a parking terrace and the oppressive isolation vanished. Their backs were covered in the only way possible right now, but it was enough.

"How're you doing?" Don asked again, his voice low and laced with a little more emotion than before.

She looked at Fin and he nodded his understanding of what'd just happened. "We're okay," she repeated softly. It meant a little more to Cragen this time.

"Look I know it's been long. We're working on getting this resolved," Cragen went on. "In the meantime, we're going to try to get some jackets down to you two."

"Okay." She nodded.

"Wrap it up already," Ryan growled. "Jesus. Talks more than my sister."

"Olivia." Pause. "You guys tough it out a little longer down there, okay? Few more hours, we'll have you out."

Ryan angrily snatched the phone away before she could reply. There was a click through the speaker phone as he hung up and they watched as he closed it and tossed it on the counter. Then he and Jay disappeared from view of the camera as they left the autopsy suite to presumably stand in the hall.

Even had his detective answered him, Cragen wondered if she believed his promise.

He questioned whether or not he believed it himself.

"Captain Cragen." Don looked up. Lt. Aston and the technician from earlier were standing next to him. They looked anxious and excited at the same time. The expression on Aston's face was bordering on giddy. "We need to talk."

He glanced almost longingly at the monitor.

"Go, Cap," Elliot urged him with a wave. "Take a break. We'll keep an eye on things." He had no intention of leaving that computer.

Cragen nodded reluctantly. John was walking around the squad room stretching and Huang was watching the monitor. His job was to ascertain the mental and emotional well-being of the hostages as well as the hostage-takers and this would be the first time he would be able to observe their behaviour when Jay and Ryan's presence was not dictating how they reacted.

"The second something changes, I wanna know about it," Cragen finally barked at both men and then begrudgingly he stood and led Aston and his hacker towards the back and into his office.

**(7:43 am)  
Autopsy suite**

The second the two men left the room to talk without being overheard, the tension left her muscles and Olivia's taut posture crumpled. She tucked her arms into her body again and dropped her head to her knees.

"Hey." At last they were able to speak freely to one another and Fin put a hand on her back. "Y'okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah," she answered without lifting her head up. "Southeast wall, near the base boards."

He looked. "Ears too?" He asked, wondering whether the station had an audio as well as visual presence.

"No clue. Cragen didn't say." She huffed a breath and raised her head, leaning it back against the cupboard doors behind her. She closed her eyes.

Fin noticed the little lines creasing the corners of her eyes, the tension around her lips. "How is it?" He asked.

"Can I lie?"

"You could, but you suck at it so I'd know you was lying anyway."

Olivia had to chuckle at that and she opened her eyes. "Hurts like hell," she admitted with a dry smile. "My Ibuprofen was in my coat pocket."

They fell silent. Fin's eyes drifted to the Rubbermaid trash bin in the corner. He knew Olivia had thought about it already. But, like she had no doubt decided, that can was in full view of the little windows in the doors of the suite...Jay and Ryan would be able to see everything they did. Ryan was getting increasingly impatient, paranoid, and physical. Going for their weapons, at least right now, was an open invitation for a bullet.

Minutes passed as they were each bogged with their own thoughts. "You should have seen it, Fin." Benson said after a while.

"Mad house, huh?"

"They have units from Chester out there." She crossed her arms over her knees and looked at him. "I couldn't see the street because of the crowd. You'd think we had a prison riot going down here. Unbelievable." She was oblivious to how important she and Fin were considered amongst New York's law enforcement and seemed surprised at the uproar this was causing.

"John? Elliot?"

She nodded. "Yeah. They were there. Huang too." Sensing where he was headed, she added, "John was looking for you. He looked pretty upset."

Fin nodded, trying to act nonchalant as he asked, "You talk to 'em?"

She looked at him a moment longer and then looked away. Guilt flooded her as her fight with Elliot rushed back. "No." She looked at the floor and shook her head. "No I didn't." She swallowed as a lump formed. "Wish I had."

Fin said nothing, deciding it might be better to let her come out with it herself rather than him pushing her to talk. "He was there. That's gotta mean something."

Olivia shook her head. "We said some pretty horrible things, Fin," she said, for it'd been obvious he'd overheard it. She took a deep breath. "But you know, most of what he said is probably true. I deserved it."

He nodded. She was ready. He would listen. "What happened?"

"The day after you visited me at Bellevue, Internal Affairs stopped by. They told me you had directed them to me after they'd talked to you a few days earlier."

"Oooh," Fin was slowly shaking his head, anger creeping into his eyes. "Man that's bullshit." Daniel had told his lawyer about Elliot's attacking him in the ER the night of the shooting, and she'd sent the rat squad to question Fin about it. "I gave 'em the slip, told 'em I wasn't the right person to ask. I never told them to come after you."

She believed him. "I know. They told me what Daniel's lawyer had said, and they asked if it was true. I said I was in surgery, I didn't see it. They said a nurse had told them she'd overheard you and I talking about it...so they knew I knew about it."

"I think my hatred just reached new heights," Fin growled out. "Askin the damn nurses. That what you and Elliot were fighting over? That Internal Affairs was screwin with you?"

Olivia shook her head. If only it'd been that simple. "They didn't stop with Daniel. They started backtracking, going over old cases, bringing up every time Elliot'd been rough with someone. They questioned me on all of them. Said they had authorization to go for my badge with obstruction if I didn't cooperate with the investigation."

IAB had been at Elliot's heels for as long as he could remember. Anything he did, they scrutinized. Now because of a punk seventeen year old kid, they were able to go for his throat. And they were using Olivia to do it.

"Authorization," Fin spat, his voice rising. "Who the hell from?"

"They didn't say." She shrugged. "I kept everything as vague as possible. No direct answers." She paused and took a steadying deep breath. "The reason for the investigation, they said, was to get grounds on which to put him on bi-monthly evaluations. It was either evals, or they had a green light to suspend him. If they couldn't get him to agree to the evaluations, they were going to."

Tutuola was staring at her, suddenly understanding. "So your fight.."

"They told him," Benson acknowledged with a nod. "That I'd been helping them. I'd asked them to let me talk to him first. I told them if I couldn't get him to agree to the evaluations on his own, that I wanted them to force them instead of doing something more extreme like admin leave." She swallowed. "It was that or indefinite suspension, Fin," she said helplessly, her dark eyes begging for forgiveness. "I wasn't going to let them have his badge for protecting me. Not when I could stop it."

"Did you tell him all this shit before that rep came last night?" He asked incredulously. Surely she had...

"I tried." Tears were threatening to well. "They'd started coming to his house last week. I suggested he just listen to what they said and take it in stride, he didn't want to hear it. I tried to talk to him about it Thursday, after we watched Hedges' confession. He wouldn't let me get anything out." She was looking away now. "I couldn't get him to go to one on his own, so they called me on Sunday and told me they were going to force it. Then Cragen called me last night, and I knew. The look on his face, Fin..." She trailed off and exhaled miserably. The fight was burning in her memory again and the sick feeling in her stomach returned as if it'd just taken place.

Fin was enraged. Leave it to the rat squad. She hadn't played their game by their rules, so what do the sons of bitches do? They'd gone for her weak spot.

Her Achilles.

And they'd threatened her partner.

The one thing they _knew_ they could use against her that would all but force her cooperation.

"I don't think we're going to get through this one," she said, blinking moisture back.

"Jesus..." Fin sighed, looking at her in concern. No the hell wonder she'd looked so haggard the last week and a half. "Cragen know about any of this?"

She shook her head. "I didn't want him involved yet. I figured I'd need his help talking to Elliot eventually though, so I told him I was worried. He said he understood why and that if I needed, he'd back me." Pause. "I never got the chance to explain it to him, Fin. To Elliot. And they hit Cragen with it before I could talk to him again. And now we're here and he's going to go on thinking that I sold him.."

"Olivia.."

"He'll never forgive me."

"Hey."

She stopped and looked at him, tears shimmering but staying put. "What."

"Make you a deal," he began quietly after he had her attention drawn away from her blame. "We keep our asses alive until Cragen makes his move. Neither of us leaves without the other. When we get outta here, if Elliot won't hear you out on all this I'll talk to him." He smiled. "He don't listen to me, I get your permission to beat the hell out of him."

Olivia laughed and she looked down. Fin had his hand out between their scrunched up legs, his palm up. She met his eyes. Smiling in return, she nodded and whispered, "Deal." She dropped her right hand down into his left. Fin's own freezing cold fingers closed around hers and squeezed. Their eyes remained on each other.

"Thanks for comin back, by the way," Tutuola said after a moment.

Benson smiled quietly. "Like Jay'd listen to you anyway, homeboy."

They both leaned their heads back and fell silent, watching the suite doors carefully and reveling in the warmth the bond strengthening between them was generating.

Their hands remained locked together.

**Hour 10  
(8:00 am)  
Precinct**

Sweet mother of God.

He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He didn't move.

Elliot Stabler sat rigid, staring at the monitor but not seeing a thing. The second Olivia had brought up their fight with Fin, he'd been riveted. He'd sat up a little straighter, leaned in a little closer. His attention was the only thing that had remained steady. His thoughts, his emotions, had bounced around his chest like a racquetball served too hard in too small a court.

Alex had respectfully vacated the squad room, and Huang, though unaware of why Olivia's discussion with Fin was so upsetting, was watching him carefully. Silently. Elliot ignored him. He didn't even care that he and probably Alex too had heard everything. All he could focus on was what Olivia had just admitted to Fin to.

God in heaven. As if Stabler wasn't still feeling guilty enough about the things he'd said to her last night, learning the truth behind Olivia's apparent betrayal gutted him completely. She'd only been trying to protect him. She'd been harassed and manipulated, threatened even, and all she'd thought about was saving _his_ ass from getting burned. Up until the last second even she'd been shielding him from personal embarrassment by not telling Cragen the reason she might need his help. What had seemed so out of character for his partner had just been revealed as testament to the _strength_ of her character.

Perp, fellow police officer, total stranger...he'd ripped into her more viciously than he could remember steamrolling _any_body before.

Elliot's hands were cold and he felt like he was going to pass out. He'd ignored her suggestions, he'd slipped away from her conversations, he'd brushed off her attempts to explain. Then in a fit of blinding rage and impetuously wounded pride, he'd torn apart everything they'd worked over the last four and a half years to solidify between them. He suddenly realized emotionally, verbally, and in every other sense probably possible, he had likely destroyed them both that night.

And she was over there right now, confessing her 'sins' to Fin and getting emotional over the thought that he wouldn't forgive _her_?

Oh the irony.

The only forgiveness needed right now was the kind of God-given grace Elliot couldn't ever hope to deserve. He didn't think, were Olivia standing in front of him right this second, he'd deserve to even ask for it.

Ever.

"...Elliot?"

Stabler blinked and looked up.

Cragen had come out of his office. He was staring at him quizzically. "You with us detective?" A concerned frown formed when Elliot didn't reply. "What happened?" His eyes immediately darted to the monitor in panic. Jay and Ryan were still in the hall and Olivia and Fin were sitting quietly, holding hands. He looked at Huang, not understanding why Elliot's face had no colour when the suite was quiet and both detectives appeared unharmed.

"Sorry, what'd you say?" Elliot cleared his throat and tried to focus. "Zoned for a second."

"Understatement," Cragen acknowledged, his frown set in place. "I said, Lt. Aston has an idea that will give us a foothold in there." He'd expected more of a reaction.

Elliot nodded absently. His stomach was churning and a sour taste was rising at the back of his throat. "That's good," he murmured, having not heard a word. "You excuse me for a second?" Without waiting to be, he pushed his chair back loudly.

"Elliot!" Cragen called after him as he strode from the squad room at a power walk.

Stabler didn't hear him. He didn't turn back around. He was oblivious to the curious onlookers passing by. The first trash bin he came to in the hallway, he lunged for. Gripping the lip with shaking hands, Elliot bent at the waist...

...and promptly threw up.

**End Part 8**


	9. Eye of the Beast Hour of Truth

CHAPTER TITLE: "Eye of the Beast (Hours of Truth)"

PAIRINGS: None specified

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Lots of language, violence. Big frakkin angst fest.

SUMMARY: See parent chapter (Zero Hour)

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: _((blushes at the compliments in reviews)) I'm so not deserving of what some of you have said. Thank you SO much! You're keeping this thing alive!_

_Hour 12 in this jumps so often between autopsy suite and precinct, I didn't separate it. Hope all you Merkuns had a fantabulous Thanksgiving!_

"**Eye of the Beast (Hour of Truth)"**

**Hour 10 cont.  
(8:15 am)****  
****Tuesday Jan 21st  
Precinct**

"Everything okay, detective?"

Elliot came back into the squad room looking pale but under control again. Certainly his eyes were a little less glassy. Cragen assumed that the tension had just built up too high and, like him, if Elliot hadn't eaten since this started, it was starting to affect him physically as well.

If the captain had known that that was only a fraction of the problem, he might have questioned his detective's composure a little more seriously.

"Fine," Elliot said with a wan smile. He tried to diffuse the concerned glances. "Where'd Alex get that coffee anyway?" He directed at Munch. "Stuff was terrible."

John, in an attempt to repay the support he'd gotten earlier, played along and shrugged. "Some non-entity one stop a few blocks away. Just be glad it hadn't been one of my concoctions. You'd still be in the hall."

Attention successfully deflected from himself, Elliot looked at the monitor. Fin and Olivia were still sitting right where they had been, hands clasped together. Jay and Ryan were still off camera. He looked at Cragen.

"We might have a way in," Don said, this time sure he had Stabler's attention.

Elliot frowned.

Cabot, who had since come back, frowned as well. "You don't look like you're too happy with whatever the plan is."

"'Unhappy' is putting it mildly." Cragen agreed. "But we might not have any other choice." Looking at Lt. Aston, he nodded, giving the HRT team leader the floor.

"Our VR technicians have been lucky enough to be studying a project only a few years old. It's called RHex, the Ambulatory Robotics Lab in Montreal gave birth to the thing. McGill University." Phil produced a glossy handed to him by his tech and gave it to Cragen who laid it out on the table.

It was a rectangular, about the length and width of a skateboard, and about three feet thick. Or deep. It had six crescent shaped legs, three on either side, and straps on the top that, in this picture, were holding a couple of small sleeping bags in place.

Elliot looked up with a 'you're kidding' expression on his face.

John spoke before he could. "You want to send them a Transformer?"

"RHex is a power - and computation - autonomous hexapod robot with compliant legs and only one actuator per leg," the tech piped up proudly, obviously enamoured with the thing. "It's presently being commercialized by Mecheligent."

Blank stares.

Cragen looked embarrassed.

The tech looked at them like he couldn't believe they weren't as excited as he was. So he went on. "It's the first documented autonomous legged machine to have exhibited general mobility at speeds exceeding five body length's per second."

"English." John pressed impatiently. "I don't speak Geek."

"About two and a quarter meters per second," came the clarification. "This thing is unbelievably versatile. It can negotiate a wide variety of rugged terrains over thousands of bodylengths, or about thirty-seven hundred meters on one set of batteries. It can carry up to three times its own body weight, take slopes exceeding 45 degrees, swim, and climb stairs."

Glazed expressions became a lot more interested as soon as the last two words left his mouth.

"Climb stairs," Elliot repeated.

The technician nodded. "A color camera and onboard image subsystem supports dynamic state sensing, self-localization and terrain navigation. The proprioceptive sensing suite, a three-axis accelerometer and three-axis fiber optic gyroscope, affords it automated recovery of correct heading in the face of severe perturbations from unexpected external forces, significantly reducing operator load. Some of our VR guys have been up in Montreal working with its control system...Last March, we got it vertical," he said and beamed like a proud father. "Using only two actuated degrees of freedom, we turned it into a stable biped robot and got it up on its rear legs."

"This is all fascinating science fiction," John murmured. "But how does a robot in Canada help hostages in New York?"

Phil Aston smiled. "It's with us. The military's been just as interested as we have been. They decided they wanted to see what it could do if put into a hostile environment. They've been looking for implementation in the field and asked us to help with the simulations. Last month McGill University leased it. We have free reign with it to put it through what tests we will. The contract ends this December. We can load it with the food and the jackets, as well as whatever we need to neutralize the situation. Since Jay doesn't seem too keen on live personnel coming in on him, we send it down for us instead."

"Neutralize," John mused, not liking how it sounded.

Aston nodded. He waved over one of his men and this man held up a cylindrical black metal object. Complete with handle...and pin.

Suddenly Alex understood and her mouth dropped in shock and she looked at Cragen in disbelief. "You're going to use it as a weapon."

The light clicked for Elliot too and he shook his head. "You want to send a machine armed with a damn grenade into a closed room ... and then detonate it?" He looked at Don angrily. "With _our__people_ inside?"

"XM84 stun grenade," Aston replied. Cragen put his hands in his pockets and would not meet his detectives' eyes. "It's a non-fragmentation, non-lethal "Flash and Bang" grenade that is intended to provide a reliable, effective non-lethal means of neutralizing & disorienting enemy personnel. It's a self-contained explosion. There's no shrapnel."

"It's still a goddamn grenade!" Elliot hollered.

"Captain..." Cabot looked horrified at the very suggestion. Good God, no wonder Cragen hadn't looked happy with this.

Surprisingly though, it was Huang that spoke up. "Stun grenades _have_ proven extremely effective in situations like ours," he said in his soft voice. "Situations in which we don't and can't have physical presence in the vicinity. There are no windows. The only way we know what's happening in that room is through our fiber optics and we have no way to diffuse the situation if things start to go wrong." He paused and looked at them all. "I'm deeply concerned with the effect Ryan is having on Jay," he told Cragen. "He was a follower in the beginning, but his threat to harm Detective Tutuola if we extracted Detective Benson suggests he's not going to be content to take the side seat much longer. He's becoming increasingly impatient and physical and he's already demonstrated that he will not agree to anything that might mean incarceration for his actions. He could easily become violent. If the stress becomes too great, he could quote/unquote "snap" entirely and Jay will become a possible third hostage. We have an opportunity to end this without injury."

Elliot looked at the profiler like he'd lost his mind. He'd been marine. He'd used one. He knew what they did. "You're actually suggesting we use that thing..."

"I'm suggesting we take it into serious consideration," Huang amended calmly. "We need control, and so far, Ryan is the one with the most. We have to turn the tables. This might be the only way to end this peacefully."

"Let's just say for the sake of argument, that we agree to this," Cragen said. He'd not agreed to anything in his office until this had been broached to the rest of the team. "What exactly is that thing going to do to when it goes off down there?"

The operative holding the grenade replied, "The M84 contains a minimal amount of explosives and, when initiated, produces illumination through oxidation, or burning of the components of the charge. Some non-toxic smoke is produced in minimal amounts but is very dense, very thick and spreads fast. The light temporarily blinds personnel within a nine yard radius of the flash point, and the smoke causes disorientation."

"So that's the 'flash'. What about the 'bang'?" John asked, staring intently at the device.

"The bang is simultaneous with initiation of the grenade," the man went on. "Noise levels are typically above 170 decibels upon detonation. It's intended to temporarily confuse, blind, and deafen enemy targets making infiltration safe and neutralization non-lethal."

"Safe for the infiltrators," Munch reminded them all with a shake of his head. "What about lasting effects? The hell's this thing going to do to my partner?"

"In tests and based upon observation of use in the field, the effects range from mild to moderate and consist of lung irritation from the smoke, ringing of the ears, and loss of direct frontal vision." He got a couple of blank looks. "They're going to be snow-blind for a couple of hours," he simplified. "Kind of like when you stare at a light bulb for too long and then look away to an area that's darker...all you see when you look straight on at something is a square of white, right? That's the 'flash'. It ensures the enemy's not going to be able to see anything straight in front of them if they look at it head on. Safeguards against our personnel being shot when we move in."

The squad room was very quiet for quite a long time. Alex had her eyes closed and her hands over her mouth, like she was trying to warm them. She was shaking her head. Huang looked like he always did, collected and professional with his brilliant mind in continual motion. John and Elliot were staring at Cragen, who looked torn.

He took his time before speaking. "You said it's non-explosive. Warner's got some pretty volatile stuff down there," he said. "What are the chances that detonating this is going to ignite something that _does_ explode?"

"We're well aware of what it will and won't react with," Phil assured him. "If we can get a detailed description from your ME about what kind of chemicals she keeps where, we'll be able to position RHex well away from those sources that could be combustible. It'll go off where we want it to, or not at all."

Cragen chewed on this for a moment, his eyes on the computer screen. Fin and Olivia were sitting right where they had been, hands still locked together. Olivia had her head back against the cupboard doors, her eyes closed. Fin was watching the door, at the same time using his other hand to rub the one of hers he held as if warming her fingers would warm the rest of her. He glanced at the clock. It was eight-thirty. His detectives had been down there now for almost eleven hours. The room was freezing, the temperature would only keep falling, and Ryan was becoming more of a real threat than a nuisance.

"Okay." He nodded and looked up at his people. "We send it in with the jackets and breakfast," he said. "But that thing doesn't go off unless we have no other choice," he said strongly at Aston. "John, Elliot, I want you to work with HRT and get this ready."

"My men have extreme weather jackets ready and a few of your guys already left to bring in some bagels," Aston told him.

"Good. Let's hope we don't have to use that," he nodded at the grenade. "Doctor Huang and I will keep talking to Jay, hopefully we can talk him down. Let's try to get another phone in there as well with the jackets in case Olivia's batteries don't hold up to the estimation." He looked at Cabot and, knowing she wanted to help but hadn't had a chance to out of the morale support sidebar, put a hand on her slender shoulder. "Alex," he said. "Call Bellevue, check on Melinda. And let's find out what she keeps where down there."

The A.D.A. had already pulled out her phone and was walking away and up the stairs to the crib to get a bit of quiet and privacy for the conversation. Aston was speaking into his radio ordering his technologies department mobilized and RHex ready for the intended modifications.

"Captain," Elliot began.

"Elliot." Cragen held up his hands and looked at him and John. "I know. I don't like it either. But right now it's all we have. If Ryan goes off the deep end, we either let someone trained to take them out do it, or we leave it to Wallace and risk him killing everyone."

John just stared at him. Right. Blow a concussion grenade in their faces, or wait for Jay's psychotic cousin to empty his gun in each of them. He shook his head.

"Some choice."

**Hour 11  
(9:00 am)  
Autopsy suite**

Like a student dozing in a class not realizing they'd drifted off, Olivia startled awake when Fin shifted slightly beside her. Fin didn't say anything as she shook off the disorientation in the dimly lit room. He just sat where he was, her one hand held between both of his as he watched the doorway. His own fingers stiff from the cold, he didn't realize how cold hers were until while rolling his neck, he looked down.

"Crap, Liv." He lifted his hands to his face and blew into them to warm hers. "The hell didn't you say something?" Her nailbeds were almost purple and he was leaving white marks on her skin wherever his fingers pressed.

"What good would it've done," she murmured and inhaled deeply and slowly. She couldn't help it anymore. She also couldn't hide it. She was shivering, the small muscles in her arms and shoulders vibrating in a pathetic instinctual effort to warm the rest of her body. "What are you doing?" She stared at him.

He still had a hold of her hand, but he was ridiculously trying to pull out of his long-sleeved shirt. "What's it look like."

"Put it back on." He'd gotten it halfway off and was trying to pull it over his head.

He didn't say anything.

"Fin." She shook her head. "Leave your shirt on."

Shirt partway off and hanging from one shoulder he glared at her. "Why you gotta fight me on this? Y'know, women used to think it was a gentleman that would give his shirt for her."

"You're right, I think you're a gentleman. Now put your shirt back on. I've seen too many men with beer guts without shirts to be objective and I'm too damned tired to look at your hairy chest for another four hours."

Grumbling to himself about women and independence, hers precisely, he pulled it back on. He was just sliding his arm back through his sleeve when the double doors parted and Jay and Ryan came back into the suite. They'd come back in once before, the cell phone had begun ringing, but Jay'd taken it back out into the hall. Fin had watched him hang up after talking for a few minutes, and then the two had remained in the hall.

"Captain's sending down some bagels and a couple jackets," Jay said with and odd almost guilty undertone. He set the phone on the counter. "Some robot something or other. Be here around ten." He shrugged. "We're uh," he cleared his throat. "This...it'll be over soon. I promise."

Suddenly the cold Fin felt had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. Something was wrong. Ryan was checking the clip in his gun with steady hands, glancing at the two of them every so often, and Jay wasn't looking at either of them at all. Whatever discussion had taken place out in the hallway, Wallace had had control of. Consequently it appeared he now had just as much control over Jay.

Tutuola felt Olivia tense beside him and knew she knew, as he did, that the scales had just been tipped a direction decidedly _not_ in their favor.

**xxxxx  
(9:28 am)  
Precinct**

Huang stared at the grainy black and white image before him. Outwardly he appeared perfectly calm. Inwardly, he was panicking. The balance of power had shifted before his eyes. Jay was now the one sitting doing nothing while Ryan paced and issued commands. Cragen had explained over the phone how they were going to get the food and jackets inside, and then Ryan had told him to hang up. He'd told his cousin this before. This time however, Jay had listened, and the two had gone back inside the suite. Olivia's phone sat on the counter, going unanswered - Ryan would bark at Jay not to answer it, and Jay would set it back down and just let it ring. Now all four were silent. The expressions on Olivia and Fin's faces revealed that they realized, as the profiler was realizing, that one way or another, this would probably be over in a couple of hours.

"The most direct way into the suite is through the bay doors," Lt. Aston was saying. He was walking the team through each phase of the plan as it would be executed. RHex was being outfitted with the grenade and everything else was being strapped down.

"My techs will be operating him wirelessly, from our unit across the street," the HRT team leader continued. "He goes in, down the stairs. They'll have to open the stairwell doors. Suite doors he can push open himself but they're already there, so." He shrugged. "Once we get him inside, we position him here." He pointed to a spot on the screen near the island counter in front of where Fin and Olivia were sitting. Warner had told Alex that most of the chemicals she had in the suite itself, she kept against the walls near the doors.

"So that thing's going to go off right in front of them," Elliot muttered.

"It's the best we can do," Aston said. "We put him against the far wall across from the doors, by the bay doors, he's away from the combustibles but too far away from the hostiles for the maximum stun. And obviously we can't park him anywhere near the front doors or up goes the Formalin and, Happy New Year. We have a chemical fire on our hands."

Cragen nodded. "Go on," he said, looking at Elliot. The man looked like he was trying to control a temper the captain already knew was close to being lost - he'd been on edge since he came back from being sick in the hall.

"Once he's in position, I've got two infiltration teams ready for when we detonate. One's positioned outside the bay doors, the other will be stationed upstairs in the offices off the stairwell."

"Unacceptable." Eyes turned to Elliot. "Forget it. Jay doesn't want anyone up there but he's gone all Rain Man on us and Ryan's out of control. They hear anyone up there, Wallace's going to start shooting."

"It'll be the same stealth team that retrieved the security tapes, detective," Phil said. "They're not going to be heard."

"We--"

"So he's in position," Cragen cut Stabler off. "How do we blow it?"

"Remote detonation," one of the techs said. "We've rigged a line inside the battery box that connects to the pin on the grenade. When it's time, we snip the line, pin comes out, and we've got a five second delay before initiation."

"Five seconds." Cragen pursed his lips and looked at Elliot. "And what if something happens in those five seconds? They find the grenade, disarm it, maybe make this really exciting and toss it by the Formalin. Or better still, that crackpot moves the damn robot himself, and there goes your perfect positioning."

"Elliot," Cragen warned.

"The second the grenade goes, the team outside blows the bay doors," Phil tried to keep explaining.

"Blows." Elliot again.

"Don't worry, detective, my team is fully trained and has the equipment necessary to do this without making more than a scorch mark on the doors themselves. Single line vertical claymore, no concussion - it severs the hydraulic lines and gives us entry ten times more quickly than trying to push them open manually. The team outside moves in from the bay, the team inside moves in from upstairs. Ten seconds, they're boxed in. Extraction team moves in behind the bay team..." He looked at Cragen. "Thirty seconds, tops. If it goes to plan, the extraction team will have your people out before the containment team has cuffs on Jay and his cousin."

"_If_ all goes to plan..."

"Elliot," Cragen warned again.

"No." Stabler pointed a finger at his captain. "This is messed up Captain and you know it."

"Detective, my men have executed takedowns like this countless times--"

"This isn't 'countless' times, Aston, this is THIS time--"

"--in the past--"

"--and those are our _partners_ in there!" The two men were hollering back and forth at each other, finishing their statements as if the other man weren't speaking at all.

"--and each time this same plan--"

"Your plan is more likely to get them killed than i--"

"--has gone off flawlessly. We've got a near ninety-five percent success--"

Elliot was right up in Aston's face by this point. "The only two things you're doing really successfully right now is Jack and shit," he raged, gesturing wildly. "And Jack's already left town!"

"Elliot!" Cragen shouted.

"Detective, I understand that those are people you care about..." Aston reach out to put a hand on Elliot's arm.

Elliot jerked himself away.

"Okay." Phil raised his hands to signal he'd not meant anything by the gesture, but Stabler, hyped up with the tension and blinded by anger he couldn't control, took it as the beginning of an act of aggression and reacted accordingly.

Before John, who was standing behind him, could restrain him, Elliot let his arm sweep forward. There was a solid 'smack' as his fist connected soundly with the side of Aston's face.

In a flash Cragen was between them and John finally got purchase on his arms from behind.

"Getchyour hands off me," Elliot snapped and, shoving Munch back a pace, shook himself free.

"Elliot, I want you out of this squad room!" Cragen bellowed. Aston was backing off, a hand to his face. "You find a room or go home...either way I don't want to see you back here until you're under control, am I clear detective?"

Elliot turned without saying a word and bodily brushed himself past other startled officers around them.

John started after him, but Don stopped him. "John. Let him go."

There was silence in the squad room. In twenty minutes, RHex would be deployed. God willing, in thirty Olivia and Fin would be out and Jay and his cousin in custody. Cragen looked at the monitor. Nothing had changed. Ryan paced muttering to himself, Fin and Olivia watched Jay, Jay kept his eyes averted from everyone. The cell phone sat on the counter.

Huang caught the stare, and the conflicting emotions contained within. "Go." He prompted with a subtle nod of his head in the direction Elliot had stormed. "I'll keep calling." And he slipped his headset back on already knowing the phone would continue to go unanswered.

The captain put a grateful hand on the profiler's shoulder as he moved behind him and strode out the squad room doors.

John let out a somewhat strained breath and shook his head. "Always a party."

**xxxxx**

Cragen eventually found Elliot in the file room.

He'd seen the detective passionate before. He'd seen him angry. He'd seen him stressed, seen him worry. But he'd never seen the man explosively emotional. He'd gotten rough with criminals before, but the volatile display out in the squad room was totally unlike him and it bothered and worried the captain.

Elliot was sitting on a fold-out step stool, his elbows on his knees, his head bent low. He was breathing heavily, deeply, like he was trying to keep himself from being sick to his stomach. There was a fist-sized hole in an old evidence box in front of him. Don approached him without touching him and spoke.

"I hope that was from a case we've already solved." Elliot didn't respond. "You want to tell me what the hell happened back there, detective?" He asked heatedly. "Why Aston has a bloody nose...and why you've just put a hole in an evidence box?"

Stabler looked up and for a moment Cragen didn't know what to think. Elliot's eyes were red-rimmed and the look of absolute miserable vulnerability on the man's face was startling. Tactics changing in his head at the sight, Don quietly closed the door to the file room and put his hands in his pockets.

"Elliot, this isn't easy on any of us," he began more softly.

Elliot ran the back of one hand under his nose and looked away. "Captain, our people are in there with that headcase and he's ready to put a bullet in every one of them. I just lost my head." He cleared his throat and stood. "Won't happen again." He moved to the door.

Cragen didn't move. He shook his head. "Not buying it." He nodded at the step ladder. "Sit down," he said sternly.

Elliot didn't back down.

"What's going on here, Elliot," Don pressed. "And don't feed me anymore crap about stress. It's horseshit. It's been hours, we're all feeling it. Now, I'm going to stand right here and we're not going back out into that squad room until you tell me why you just sucker punched a member of possibly the only task force in this city that can get our people out alive."

"Yeah, well they haven't _gotten_ them out yet have they," Elliot snapped furiously.

"He's doing the best he can."

"IT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"

"Detective, SIT DOWN," Cragen roared.

This time, Elliot obeyed. He didn't just sit back on the step ladder, however. It was like his legs could no longer bear weight. He dropped into it and Cragen watched as the fight left the man in a rush and he hung his head again...and this time held it in his hands. They were trembling.

"It's my fault she's even there," Elliot said, the words halting and unsteady and muffled by his arms.

'So,' Cragen thought. 'That was it.' It wasn't that 'their people' were in there. It was that Olivia was in there. He understood to a degree..hell, she was his partner, had been from day one. He sensed, though, that there was more to it than that, something behind the ferocity of the anger about the situation. He pulled up a file box and sat across from his detective.

"It's no one's fault, Elliot," he said firmly. "They were in a good place at a bad time." Inside, however, the captain was fuming at the unfairness. "If you want to point fingers, I'm the one that called Olivia in last night."

"No." Elliot looked up and Cragen was shocked to see that his eyes weren't only red ... they were moist. Elliot was on the verge of tears. "You don't get it. She went with Fin because of me. We had a fight. Up in the crib, after that IAB rep left."

Cragen chuckled. "You both deserve commendations if you're just now admitting to your first disagreement after four years." The smile faded as he looked at the stricken expression on Stabler's face. "Okay," he said quietly and crossed his arms. "Tell me what happened."

Elliot sniffed and straightened, bracing his hands on his knees and looking at the far wall. He took a breath and dove into it, explaining why they'd even begun arguing in the first place. About him learning that Olivia had been involved in him getting slapped with the evaluations. Then about watching and listening to her talk with Fin, and discovering why she'd been involved.

"I lost it Captain," he said and felt his chest tighten all over again at the memory. "There was this..." he gestured with his hands. "This haze, and I didn't stop to think about why, all I could focus on was the anger. I couldn't see past it. I went berserk, said these horrible cruel things. I--" He stopped here and swallowed thickly. He looked at his captain. "I accused her of ratting me out just to get me tossed so she could get a replacement. I didn't think about what I was saying, the words just came..." He shook his head. When he continued his voice was a little higher, a little tighter, and almost a whisper.

"I called her a coward. To her face. My partner for God's sake. She was trying to get me to go, all last week, before they forced it. She tried to talk to me last week, tell me on Thursday. I brushed her off. I just," he inhaled a tremulous and broken breath. His composure was a fault line that was about to give. "I can't get this picture of her out of my head, y'know? Of the betrayal on her face, this hurt in her eyes. That I caused." He touched his chest with trembling fingers. The near psychotic rage behind his words that night was only testament to himself that she'd been right all along - he did need counseling.

Don bowed his head and was silent a moment as his thoughts churned like whitewater. He shook his head as something struck him. A realization that made him both ill and furious at the same time. Olivia had come to him Saturday night before she'd gone home. She'd told him she was worried that certain events in the past would cost her her partner, and that she was feeling some heat to do something about it. She hadn't said who or what was putting the pressure on, and Cragen hadn't asked...he'd simply acknowledged her concern and told her that whatever she felt she needed to do for Elliot, he'd fully back her on. Only he'd not had the chance to; when the time for backup had come that night, Elliot had already left the precinct.

Sitting here now, the captain wished to God he'd asked her. Demanded it. He should never have let her go home that night, should have knocked her down and sat on her until she'd told him what, or who, was bothering her. IAB had manipulated his people one time too many...and when the smoke from this crisis cleared, heads were going to roll.

"I'm supposed to have her back, Cap," Elliot went on. "And all I can do when she tries to cover mine is shove a knife in it and twist as hard as I can..." He swallowed thickly again and took another breath. "And now she's over there with Fin in a goddamn freezing morgue with a gun pointed at her head and.." He pinched the bridge of his nose with two his thumb and finger. "...and the last thing she heard was her partner telling her that he didn't trust her..." The last two words shuddered out. "If we don't get 'em out, Cap, if this goes down wrong..." He sniffed shakily. "It...I can't... God..." The fault gave way, what little control Elliot had over his emotions failed completely, and he covered his face entirely with one hand.

The detective's anguish consumed him and Cragen could feel the guilt and the self-hate radiating off him like heat from a light bulb ready to burn out. Benson's shooting less than a month ago had done its damage to the man, but this was destroying him twice as fast. If Fin and Olivia didn't make it out of that building alive, he knew Elliot would never forgive himself. Cragen would lose the man to a place he'd not be able to pull him back from and he had to stop the freefall now before it devoured him completely.

Don stood and laid a hand on Elliot's shoulder. "Elliot." Without looking up, Elliot angrily shrugged it off and faced away. A man this totally overcome with remorse and blame did not want to be consoled or comforted, but Cragen was not to be deterred. He put his hand out again and held Elliot's arm. With a grunt, the detective stood swinging this time. Cragen dodged the flailing limb, caught Elliot firmly around the chest, and held fast. "Okay. Okay..." The iron grasp and the steady voice was all it took to bring the rest of shattered defenses down and the man crumpled in his captain's arms.

Elliot Stabler wept.

Bitter, angry tears that shook his broad shoulders with every caving heave of his chest. He held his head in his hands and Cragen just held him to his chest as he cried, supporting nearly all of the other man's weight as they stood in the middle of the file room.

The outburst didn't last long, just long enough. Cragen felt the younger man right himself and he cautiously released his grip to hold him by the shoulders. He studied him with the kind of scrutinizing but non-judgmental gaze that he was known throughout the station house for. "We okay?"

Elliot cleared his throat and sniffed. "Yeah." He wiped his eyes and nodded. "Yeah we're good, I'm good." As was typical with the male population, what support was needed had been given and now that it was over, it was if nothing had even happened. It worked. Healing would have to wait until the crisis was over, but at least the door had been opened to allow for it when that time came.

"Good." Cragen patted his arm once and let go. He flipped a hand at a faded red mark he was just now noticing in the hollow of the man's left cheek. It was faintly bruised. "The box fight back?"

Elliot put a now steady hand to his jaw and a wry smile spread thinly across his lips. "No. That uh.. Liv, she..."

"Oh." Cragen didn't need it explained. There was a beat of silence. Then, "You probably deserved it."

Stabler let out a short laugh. Understatement. "Yeah." He wiped at his nose a final time. "Yeah I did."

Cragen clapped him on the back and left his hand there as he jerked a head to the side towards the door. Nothing more was said as the captain opened the door and he and his detective left the file room.

**Hour 12  
(10:05 am)  
Autopsy suite**

Olivia looked at her watch. It said ten. Had her internal body clock not known that referred to ten in the morning, she'd have had no way to tell. The only light in the autopsy suite was the yellow emergency lighting - sunlight had no access to this part of the basement. She felt bad about having dozed off earlier, but bloody hell...she'd gotten up at around seven Monday morning. Twenty-seven hours now. Almost thirteen of them spent sitting on the floor of a morgue now as cold as its freezer. Her head hurt, her eyes were dry and burning, and all she wanted to do was close them. Adrenaline and Fin sitting next to her were the only two things keeping her going at this point.

"Yo."

She looked up as Fin nudged her with his elbow and nodded at the door. Ryan had left, presumably to open the stairwell doors to allow for the coats and food. Olivia immediately looked at Jay. She only had a minute, maybe two.

"Jay," she began calmly but urgently. "Pick up the phone." It had stopped ringing and she had a strong suspicion the batteries were dead. "Call Captain Cragen. You can end this now before it gets out of hand."

"No one can end it," Jay said sullenly.

"Yes. Yes you can. You never wanted this to happen, and you want it to end without anyone getting hurt.."

Jay nodded, tears forming.

"So do it," she urged him carefully, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. "You know Ryan's not going to walk away from this without some repercussions for Dante and Melinda." Another nod. "This doesn't end peacefully, he's going to end up with a sniper's laser aimed at his heart..."

Jay nodded and sniffed. "Y'know, I just wanted his help with the pictures?" He wiped at his nose. "But when I told him why, he thought it'd be fun to mess around with it. Freak things out first. He sent these stupid notes. He wanted a gun." He looked up but would still not look at either detective. "He said we're going to make a statement. He doesn't want to go to prison. But it'll work, y'know? I didn't want anyone involved, but," he sniffed and shrugged. "You won't have no one comin after you because you put 'em in cuffs. I promise."

"Jesus Christ," Cragen muttered as he watched, his heart hitting the soles of his shoes. "He's going to kill all of them."

"Reverse Stockholm," Huang said, his steady tone belying a very out of control mind. "Jay feels sorry for his hostages. He sympathizes with the suffering. He wants to end their plight and keep them from harm, but his cousin doesn't want to go to prison. He believes killing them will accomplish both agendas." He looked at Cragen and Aston. "Jay's beginning to decompensate. Ryan's probably convinced him that suicide is the only way out. We have to end this now."

"Fucking hell." Aston suddenly exclaimed and, in looking at the monitor, everyone knew the reason. Ryan had just walked into the autopsy suite _carrying_ RHex.

"Check it out," Wallace said appreciatively of the robot. He turned it in his arms, looking it over. Then, to the horror of the crisis team as a whole watching from the precinct, haphazardly laid it on its side on the counter by the front doors.

Next to three one-gallon glass jars of Formalin.

"Oh my God," Alex breathed in disbelief.

Aston began speaking frantically into his headset, ordering both strike teams into position and barking at the tech controlling RHex to see if they could do anything to right and move him. John looked stoic, unmoving and fixed on the screen. Elliot was pale and Cragen was tempted to push both detectives into a chair.

Ryan undid the nylon straps holding the jackets and a bag of bagels in place on RHex's back. Taking a bite of a cinnamon and raison bagel, he indifferently tossed one wadded up jacket to Fin, and the other to Olivia.

Clatter.

Olivia stared in surprise as a cell phone slid from the pocket of the jacket Ryan had tossed at her and skittered across the tiled floor.

"The hell?" Ryan moved to it, bent, and picked it up. His head shot around to glare at Fin and Olivia, both of whom looked liked they were staring at their own deaths and knew it, and Captain Cragen felt a bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he realized he'd just gotten them both killed.

Surprises were the worst thing you could introduce into a hostage situation, and the cell phone was a lethal curve ball. In his haste to explain RHex to Jay before Ryan had forced him to hang up, he had neglected to tell him about the extra phone they were sending down.

"This yours?" Ryan stalked over to the two detectives. He was staring at Olivia.

Unfortunately, neither her nor Fin knew about the phone either, so there was no way for them to undo the mistake.

Benson was still in shock from hearing what Jay and Ryan had talked about in the hallway. She opened her mouth to reply. "I--"

Whatever she'd been trying to say was cut off and replaced by startled inhalation as Ryan's left hand snapped out, grabbed her left arm, and roughly yanked her to her feet. "Is it yours!" He yelled again.

"Hey!" Fin shouted at him angrily.

Olivia grimaced, pain flaring through her shoulder as her heart hammered behind her ribs like fists trying to pound down a door. "I don't know where that came from," she said, her voice shaking now from something other than the cold.

"Bullshit!" Wallace shouted. He sharply tugged her closer, his grip pulling vertically on her arm and this time eliciting a quiet grunt from her. "You been planning this from the beginning, haven't you!" He accused. "I bet she has," he spat at Jay, who looked afraid to move. "Talking to your boss all this time...I _told_ you we shouldn't have let her talk to him. Some kind of shit trap, isn't it! What, phone a goddamn bomb or something?" He looked back at Olivia and his right hand raised his gun straight at her temple.

Out of reflex, Benson whipped her head the other direction. For an instant, whether it was intentional or not, her eyes locked with the fiber optics line and Elliot Stabler lost his breath. He'd seen a lot of things in his partner's eyes before. Determination, anger, compassion. What he saw now - his chest felt as though Wallace may as well have already fired the shot. Her eyes, before she'd snapped them closed, had been filled with fear.

Real fear.

"Blow it," Elliot almost whispered, not looking at Aston.

Phil was looking at the screen. Jay was sitting right in front of the jars of Formalin. "He--"

"Blow it, goddamnit, he's going to kill her!" Elliot exploded.

Aston, his hand on his mouthpiece and hovering to give the order, looked at Cragen.

She'd been nervous before, maybe even gone so far as anxious, but for the first time in her life Olivia Benson was truly afraid.

Fin, however, was just plain pissed. He'd had it with Ryan, and this had gone too far. Cragen's move or not, this was going to end. Springing from his spot against the cupboards he lunged for the heavier set man ... whose reflexes were surprisingly agile for his physique. He swung the gun down hard and fast, catching Tutuola across they eyebrow with a sickening crack. Fin dropped back to the tile on his back, moving, but dazed.

"No!" Olivia exclaimed and turned to her right to reach for him as he fell. She'd forgotten Ryan still had hold of her left arm, and was quickly reminded of her position when her movement gave him the leverage he needed to spin her around so her back was to his chest. This time she couldn't hold it back and she cried out in pain as her arm was wrenched behind her and she felt, and heard, something in her shoulder give. She grabbed at it with her right hand as her knees buckled.

"Hey!" This time, it was even too much for Jay, and he stood, gun aimed at his cousin. After all, they were cops. He worked with them. He knew them. Plan or no plan, the abuse was excessive.

"Back off!" Ryan shouted, his own gun now aimed at Jay. He was completely out of control, his face flushed and his eyes wild. He did not release his grip on Olivia, and her arm was angled up behind her even as she was now on her knees.

Fin was only just starting to come back around.

"Strike teams, in position," Aston was saying loudly into his headset. "Hold for initiation."

"Get him on the phone!" John was now was shouting at Cragen.

The captain had already dialed the extra cell phone and the ringing was shrill and surrealistically loud as it sounded back into the squad room through the fiber optics line in the suite. "C'mon," he urged frantically as he stared at the standoff unfolding in front of him. "Pick it up..."

Ryan stared at the phone as it started ringing. Infuriated and over the edge, he picked it up and hurled it against the wall, shattering the back off it and sending little shards of plastic flying as it hit the floor, now totally useless.

"Ryan..." Jay was talking to his cousin now. "This wasn't the deal..."

"The fuck it matter how it goes down?" Ryan spat back. "We're gonna do it, let's just fucking do it already!"

"Jay," Olivia began through heavy breaths, having already figured out what her and Fin's fate was to be. "Please don't do this.."

"Shut up!" Ryan pointed his gun at the back of her head.

She ignored him and implored Jay from her knees in front of Ryan. "Jay please...it doesn't have to happen like this."

"This how a cop pleads for her life!" Ryan sneered, shaking his head mockingly at Jay.

"I'm pleading for yours!" Olivia shouted back, tears of pain now starting to spill through closed lids as she bent her head and tried to catch her breath. "You do this, neither of you will walk out alive and if you do, you'll _both_ go to prison for murder..."

Ryan snorted. "The hell makes you think we're going to prison?" He looked across the room at Jay. "C'mon man. We agreed. This is the way it goes down. Let's just get it done!"

Jay didn't shift his aim but it was obvious in the way his gaze shifted shakily between cops and cousin that his sudden burst of independence was slipping away again.

"You go chicken shit on me, I swear to God man I'll kill you myself," Ryan vowed angrily.

"Upstairs is clear, claymores on the bay doors ready. Strike teams are in position." Aston reported to Cragen.

"I want every unit out there ready to go!" Cragen ordered no one specifically and several officers scrambled from their chairs. "EMTs, fire, I want them at those bay doors yesterday!" His eyes were glued to the monitor. "C'mon jay...move away," he begged the man to move from the counter. If they detonated with him standing right in front of them, the chemical would go up when the grenade went off.

They watched as Jay stood frozen, his weapon trained on his cousin, his cousin's weapon trained down at Olivia, and Fin lying a few feet away with blood oozing from a gash across his right eyebrow. Everything hinged on Wheylan.

A moment passed and then Jay's resolve crumbled. Heaving and anguished sigh, he looked away from Ryan, and dropped his gun ... only to raise it again and aim it straight at Fin.

"God, no," Elliot muttered, his mouth as dry as cotton and his eyes wide and horrified. Without waiting for any kind of decision, he pushed away from the crowd and bolted from the squad room. John was right behind him.

"Captain..." Aston prompted. Don looked like he was going to be sick.

"Jay." Ryan snapped his cousin out of his daze and the two locked eyes. "Now or never man. Let's do this shit."

A pause lasted an eternity, but Jay never moved away from the counter behind him which lay RHex and the Formalin. Taking a deep breath, Wheylan nodded. "Okay," he breathed, and looked back down at Fin.

"Do it." Cragen's voice was a breath of air.

The clicks of weapons being cocked simultaneously jolted through the squad room.

"DO IT!" Don shouted.

"We have a go. Detonate!" Aston bellowed through his headset. "Repeat, detonate!"

There was a 'pop' and a deafening eruption of noise ripped through the autopsy suite. Blinding white light blazed through the computer monitor and picture was lost as smoke from the stun grenade billowed from RHex's ruined body and filled the room.

"Extraction teams, we have initiation, go! Go go go go go!"

There might have been almost no visual, but the optics' audio was working just fine. There was the sound of shattering glass and a man screamed as the Formalin exploded. Behind the thick smoke generated by the stun grenade, a new, reddish orange glow was replacing the brilliant white of the oxidized flash. A quite roar began to grow with it as the air in the suite began to pop and crackle.

Fire.

"Dear Lord," Cragen murmured. Alex let out a strangled half-sob behind him.

There was a hiss and then a splutter as both the water and the Halon ceiling mounted sprinklers reacted to the blaze and glass jars and cupboard doors continued to shatter and explode. Formalin splattered around the suite by the explosion went ablaze near the southeast wall floor, and a split second later the fiber optics were gone.

There was a blip, static, and then the computer monitor went dark and the squad room went totally silent.

**End Part 9**


	10. Triage

CHAPTER TITLE: "Triage"

PAIRINGS: None specified

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Language. Angst. Big frakkin angst fest. (Like the rest hasn't been one, lol)

SUMMARY: Some things just have to wait until the clouds begin to disperse.

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: _So sorry the last chapter was left where it was, I didn't mean for it to be a cliffhanger, lol, I promise! But I had to split it because it was frakkin huge, hehe. Thank you, **thank **you for the reviews…you guys are WAY too generous._

"**Triage"**

"The worst is over now, and we can breathe again." -Amy Lee of Evanescence with Seether; "Broken."

**Tuesday Jan 21st  
10:15 am  
County Coroner's building**

She knew she was dead.

There was absolutely no question in her mind that the gasp she'd inhaled as Ryan's fingers dug into her arm had been her last breath of air. Olivia had had her eyes closed, her psyche rushed with anger as she'd heard Ryan cock his gun directly behind her.

Benson didn't see her life. The only thing that had flashed before her eyes was an eruption of light followed by a deafening sound as something by the doors exploded. Thick irritating smoke had billowed across the floor. She heard Jay scream as glass shattered with another explosion. The most horrific sound she'd ever heard. And then suddenly the agonizing torque on her arm was gone. Ryan yelled something, released his hold and had moved away from her.

Reality was a surrealistic nightmare now.

She couldn't see, there was a roaring wail in her ears, and because of the smoke her spatial orientation was gone. She felt turned around. Dizzy. Light strobed in front of eyes that couldn't see past the blanket of white in front of them. She suddenly had no idea where she was in relation to anything or anyone else in the room.

Including Fin.

The last she'd seen of Tutuola he'd been lying to her left. But now where the hell was left? "Fin!" She hollered ineffectually, a second later coughing harshly as a strong pungent odor filled the air and burned her exposed mucous membranes. Eyes, nose, throat...she was on fire. Slamming already useless eyes closed, she tried to breath only through her nose as she dazedly started to realize she wasn't the only thing burning.

Heat was quickly replacing the cold of the autopsy suite and the chemical smell was joined by a smell she recognized. She froze, her body electrified by fear.

The suite was going up in flames.

In opposition of her innate need to remain in control, Benson screamed in shock as the sprinklers overhead activated and freezing water seared quickly overheating skin. The two contrasting polar extremes of sensation was hellish and she ducked her head as the sky fell in a frigid downpour around her.

They had to get out.

She tried to move to get away from the flames, away from everything, but a spectacular pain lanced up her arm and sliced across her chest the instant the palm of her left hand made contact with the slippery floor. White flashed again, this time in her head, as her dislocated shoulder tried to bear the weight of her upper body. A rushing sound replaced the shrill ringing in her ears. A moment later Olivia felt the floor under her back and a lightness deep in her chest. She was dimly aware of a large hand grabbing hers as the chaos around her started to fade. Consciousness continued to tunnel until the world went silent and her head rolled slightly to one side as she blacked out.

**xxx**

A flash of white followed by an explosion of extraordinary noise jerked Tutuola back into full consciousness. The room was in chaos. The smell of burning disinfectant was overpowering, a haze of orange light danced in crazy angles, and it was raining inside the suite. The last thing he remembered after lunging at Wallace was blurrily staring up at Olivia as Ryan's vicious hand forced her to her knees. A jolt went through him as the memory struck him.

"Olivia!" He shouted, and was immediately overcome with fumes and smoke. Fire licked at him from the sides as ice rained down on him from above. His head throbbed and something warm was running into his eye. He knew what had happened, and it scared him. The room was on fire and he was so effectively disoriented, he couldn't find his way out of it.

He couldn't find Olivia.

He rolled himself over to his hands and knees, the pounding in his head making him sick and the fumes making him dizzy. His balance was shot - the floor beneath him sashayed as he moved.

Where? She'd been right next to him, where the hell was she!

A few seconds before the panic washing through him could take full reign, his groping hands found another freezing cold one and he squeezed hard as he felt the watch at the wrist. Benson's watch. His chest seized and fear reasserted its hold on him as he realized the hand he gripped so tightly was not squeezing back.

"Shit," he swore aloud, trying to wipe water from his face from the sprinklers soaking him from overhead. 'Neither of us leaves without the other,' his own words replayed in his head. He felt his way up the arm, across her chest and then headed north until his fingers found that sweet spot of soft skin under the line of her jaw. The pulse thumping there was erratic but strong...she was out cold.

"Olivia..." He could distantly hear a man wailing from somewhere in the room as he lightly tapped her face. Smoke from the fire and the chemical burning with it seared his lungs and he coughed hard and long. "C'mon baby," he urged between hacking. Pops muffled because of the grenade sounded all around him, be they shots from a gun or things in the room bursting as they were touched by flame, he couldn't distinguish.

A second later, whatever had been on the counter above them succumbed to the heat of the flames and Fin flattened himself on top of Benson, arms covering his head, as glass and some kind of liquid that burned when it hit showered down on them.

**xxx**

Through the smoke and the roaring fire, feet were splashing across the tiled floor as HRT and SWAT personnel combined spilled into the room.

"FREEZE!" Came the bellow through the confusion. "Down! On the ground, now!" Rifles being brought to bear made the air crackle like pop rocks as the room was swarmed with armed forces and emergency personnel alike. Fin knew better than to move; were it an armed madman or the approaching cavalry bearing down on them he wasn't about to make a sudden move that would elicit a shot. So he remained right where he was, body curled in a protective arch with Benson pinned beneath him.

The two men leading the strike team through the bay doors went straight for Tutuola and Benson while the containment team, aided by a fire crew, bore down on Ryan Wallace. They didn't even bother asking the two detectives they found huddled on the floor if they were all right...assessment was the job of the EMTs once they had them out of the damn building. The strike team leader grabbed at Fin and hauled him vertical. He gripped him firmly and began moving while his second in command made the move for Olivia.

"Garret!" This man hollered, alerting his partner to the fact that his charge was unresponsive. He bent to do a quick assessment himself to make sure her heart was at least still beating. As horrible as it sounded, were rescue breathing necessary it had to wait until the hostages were removed from the immediate threat. He confirmed the thump of her pulse and then without effort slid strong arms under her knees and back and plucked her from the now flooded floor. Men trained as he was were put through some of the most grueling physical demands known to armed forces...lifting a woman that barely weighed a hundred and twenty pounds was child's play. Reaffirming his hold on her, he jogged towards the parking terrace gleaming in late morning sunlight beyond the blown bay doors in front of him.

In less than five minutes from the time the grenade had blown a hole in the side of RHex's mechanical body, Ryan Wallace was overcome with armed officials and the extraction team was bearing Fin and Olivia towards ready and waiting emergency medical personnel.

**10:20 am**

He'd lost his partner.

He knew it.

She was dead.

Jay's inability to ward off his cousin's violent influence had sealed their fate and Olivia was dead. Fin was dead. Bullets to the back of the head. Executed. When he got across the parking lot, he'd come upon medical personnel with somber expressions bending low over two stretchers draped with white sheets.

This was the reality that loomed over Elliot Stabler as he and John raced from the precinct across the slush covered pavement. Regardless of their demands to be let through the lines, leftover SWAT personnel held them back and they watched helplessly as thick black smoke billowed from the open bay doors and fire crews dragged hoses over.

Having abandoned the station house only a minute after Aston, Cragen and Alex came jogging across the terrace behind them. Cabot looked a mess and Don looked worriedly beyond Elliot and John towards Warner's building as the crews battled to keep the ground floor from going up along with the basement already engulfed.

The late morning sun blazing off the snow on the ground was in almost cruel contradiction of the dark scene playing out beneath its rays. Elliot was oblivious to the cold, to Alex and Cragen behind him ... but not to the wrench of his gut as his eyes fell on a crowd of paramedics surrounding a bed they were pushing at a run towards one of the four ambulances idling at the far end of the terrace.

The same panic had obviously flared through John because a second after spotting it, both men were bodily pushing past the perimeter and running full tilt towards that ambulance.

Cragen was only a few steps behind them, but he was headed for Lt. Aston.

"Where's that going?" Elliot asked the first person he came to as an officer slapped the doors closed and the ambulance pulled away, sirens screaming. "Hey!" He stopped that man by grabbing his elbow. "That," he pointed. "Who was it? Where're they headed? Bellevue?"

"Bellevue, yeah," he said. "Third and fourth degree chemical burns." He shook his head. "It's bad."

Elliot felt sick, and John looked it, as the two about-faced and began to head for where their own cars had been ditched last night.

"Elliot, John!"

They turned as Cragen's voice carried across the crowd. He was standing a few yards away from two of the remaining three ambulances, which were still parked on the far end of the terrace and well away from the flurry still surrounding the morgue. He was waving them over. He thanked Lt. Aston and then put a hand on each of their shoulders as they reached him.

"They're all right," he said without preamble, for both men looked on the verge of imploding in on themselves. He was out of breath. "Extraction team got them out just a few minutes after that grenade went."

John let out a swift breath and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. Fear and adrenaline left him in a rush, leaching the pent up energy from his system and making his legs weak. Elliot, eyes still locked on Cragen, grabbed his upper arm and couldn't speak.

"Y'okay?" Don looked at John, concern all over his face.

"Yeah." John nodded. "Yeah I just..." He cleared his throat. "Are they..." he trailed off as he looked towards the closed doors of the buses.

"They're working on a gash over Fin's eye and bringing Olivia back around now. Alex is with her."

Elliot paled. "Bringing her around...you just said they were both okay..." He looked towards one of the EMTs standing by Cragen.

"They're fine," the man assured them. "Considering. They're being treated for the chemical and smoke inhalation as well as for mild exposure. The prolonged time without heat, plus the water from the fire sprinklers... Both their core temperatures were down a couple of degrees. It's not serious, but we're just making sure they're both gonna remain stable before we transport them. Detective Tutuola has a grade three concussion, and we'll be watching him close. Detective Benson _was_ unconscious when HRT brought them out, but her shoulder had been dislocated. There're no signs of other trauma, vitals are strong... We think she just passed out. Detective Tutuola's awake though, if you'd like to see him. They should be finishing up with the suturing." With a nod at the three men, the EMT turned and went back to one ambulance.

Elliot tried to sneak a peek inside as one door opened, but all he could see was Alex sitting to one side. The medical personnel inside blocked his view of his partner. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing right now.

"John. Go," Cragen said with a jerk of his head. Munch was still staring at the other ambulance.

He didn't need to be invited twice. With a pat on Elliot's arm, John trotted off. He rapped on the door with the back of his knuckles and a second later, an EMT pushed the doors open. After John flashed his shield, the young medic grabbed him around the wrist and helped him inside and closed the door behind him.

The heat was on high but John didn't care. He didn't even notice. The heat _he_ felt was internal, spreading hot and fast through his chest as he looked at his partner, lying with an oxygen mask over his mouth, an IV taped to one hand, and covered with about six blankets. Hot packs were resting on the bed near his legs and up around his chest. His curly black hair, usually slicked back in its ponytail, was in disarray, strands loose here and there, and sopping wet.

"Does it still hurt?" Another medic was just snipping off the last of the thread from the stitches and began taping a swatch of gauze over the gash.

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"Where it's bleeding."

The medic was unfazed by Tutuola's grumble. He finished taping the gauze and moved aside, and John sat on one of narrow benches attached to the wall.

Fin had his eyes closed and John just watched him for a second. He was not able to think of anything profound to say that would adequately describe how he felt. "Hey, Boy."

Fin cracked an eye open at the voice...and then his lips curved into a wan and lopsided half-smile. He pulled the mask from his face and left it around his neck. His voice was hoarse. " 'sup Jew." He lifted one arm.

The two men quietly clapped hands palm to palm.

"'livia?" Fin inquired after a pause.

Munch nodded. "In the next bus over." He stared for a few seconds longer and then John shook his head and smiled. He reached up to put the O2 mask back in place as Fin started coughing. "I leave you alone for half an hour..."

Fin chuckled tiredly - John hadn't gone home last night more than thirty minutes before Warner had called. Nothing more was said as Fin closed his eyes and let his head drop carefully back against the pillow.

Their hands remained clasped.

**xxx**

Not long after John had disappeared into Fin's ambulance, the door of the one containing Olivia opened and the medic who'd gone in earlier hopped down. He came to Cragen and Elliot and smiled.

"She's awake, and doing just fine," he told them. Whatever else he began explaining, Elliot tuned out as his eyes darted to the door. He suddenly understood John's physical reaction...because he mirrored it.

Olivia was sitting up at a 45 degree angle, an oxygen mask resting over her mouth and nose. Her left arm was wrapped tightly to her chest. Mounds of blankets and several hot packs had been piled on top of her and an IV full of warmed saline was already dripping.

Alex was sitting next to her holding her other hand and smoothing back wayward strands of sodden hair. She was speaking quietly, Elliot couldn't hear what was being said. He watched Olivia nod, and Cabot lean forward and drop a kiss at her hairline before standing and hopping down from the bus. The door was closed behind her. She looked like she'd been crying, or was about to start, as she pulled out her cell phone and moved to the fourth ambulance and sat on its back bumper.

"Melinda," they heard her say after a second. She's promised Warner when she'd called to get the description of the chemicals in the suite that she would call her back as soon as she knew anything the news coverage following the standoff didn't report. The ME had been frantic with worry since she'd been brought out and recovered from surgery, and panicked at the emotional quivering in Cabot's voice. "I'm sorry." Alex smiled and wiped at her face. "No it's okay. It's fine. They're all right."

"Captain, detective?"

Elliot turned away from the conversation as the EMT called their attention. He'd been speaking into his radio and he clipped it back to his belt.

"Their vitals are good; they're both staying in the clear. We're ready to move them. One of you's more than welcome to ride with."

"We've gotta lock this down," Don said. He looked a bit haunted. "Go. I'll be along later." And he nodded at Elliot, who flashed a grateful smile and headed over to the bus.

Fight or no fight, guilt ridden because of it or not, he had to see her. It was a psychological need, an actual physical ache tearing his chest cavity apart. He didn't care if she hated him. Hell, he _wanted_ her to hate him. A person had to be alive to be able to hate.

The EMT opened the door and Elliot hauled himself inside, trembling slightly out of a hefty swirl of anticipation and nerves combined.

It was even worse up close. Her face was pale and streaked with soot and small scratches from exploding glass, her wet hair was stringy and even covered in the wet smoke from the fire he could see the exhausted shadows around eyes.

She looked like hell.

It was fantastic.

Stabler sat down on the narrow bench inside as the doors were slapped closed and the bus cleared to leave. Olivia was out again. In the time between Alex's departure and Elliot's climbing inside, she'd drifted off. Or... Elliot's heart gave a start at a different, paranoid thought and he glanced at one of the medics in the back with him.

He smiled. "She's fine, detective. I promise. We gave them both a mild sedative, and her some pretty strong painkillers for the shoulder. Thirty hours awake and coming out of that shit?" He jerked his head behind him at what they were leaving behind. "I'm surprised we woke her up at all after she blacked out down there. She'll probably sleep for a day solid."

Elliot turned his attention back to the bed, rocking gently with the motion of the moving ambulance. Without thinking he spanned the small gap between his legs and the edge of it and took her right hand in his, minding the line taped to the back of it. His heart ached. It was freezing. He unconsciously closed his other hand around it and rested his elbows on his knees. He stared.

And then it hit him.

It was over.

Thirteen of the worst hours of his life, trailing behind them as the bus wailed mutedly through the streets of Manhattan and bore them both away from the nightmare.

The reality he was sitting in replaced the one he'd been fully expecting and relief ambushed him with tremendous force. He felt weak and suddenly his eyes were stinging. Letting out a long somewhat unsteady breath, Elliot bent his head as he gripped her hand even more firmly in hands that shook.

Were it an unconscious reflex, nerves and muscles simply responding to an outside stimulus, or were Olivia not as deeply asleep as the men around her assumed, Elliot would probably never know. Whatever the case, cold fingers contracted and closed feebly around shaking ones. Elliot could not have been struck harder emotionally had she opened her eyes and smiled.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, forcing a lump back down before it surfaced and he made a fool of himself. He rested his chin on his hands and thanked God.

They just might survive this yet.

**1:45 pm  
Urgent Care Unit, Bellevue Hospital**

Urgent Care was its own unit just off the emergency ward, allowing doctors to tend to patients who needed to be watched without those patients being in the middle of the frenetic activity of the ER proper. Elliot and John sat out in the family room. Both were swallowed up in their own minds. Neither spoke. They were too tired for conversation.

A knock on the door startled them and they looked up as Captain Cragen came in. He held out his hand indicating they not even bother standing. He closed the door and took a chair. "What've you heard?"

Elliot repeated what the doctors had told the two of them thirty minutes ago. "Fin cracked his head pretty good. Some of the Formalin got on his hands, gonna blister for a couple days. They got Liv's shoulder realigned, but she's got some torn ligaments. She'll be in a sling again for another couple weeks. They're getting them cleaned up now, then said they've got a room ready up on TCU."

TCU was the Transitional Care Unit. It was where patients who would be headed home in a day or so went when they need a little extra TLC - physical or occupational therapy or a chance to get over a bug - before complete discharge.

"Gonna hold them both overnight," John supplied. "For the Formalin exposure. They want to make sure upper respiratory infections don't take up residence."

"Either of you seen Alex?"

Stabler nodded, rubbing at his face. "Got here a few minutes after we did. She's upstairs with Warner now fillin her in. She just left." Warner was still on the Surgical floor.

Cragen was contemplatively silent for a few minutes. "What about Jay?"

The doctors had told the two detectives about the other cop's condition as well. "Third and fourth degree burns, almost eighty percent of his body," John said quietly. "Probably won't make it to tomorrow."

Don felt sick.

Seconds ticked by quietly.

"What happened to Wallace," Elliot asked after a long silence between all three.

"They had to take him out," Don reported in a subdued sort of manner. "From what Lt. Aston's men told him, when they came through the bay doors, he was already firing. At the floor. He was in the corner by Jay. Near as they can guess, he flipped when he couldn't help Jay, and was probably trying to hit Fin and Olivia."

They waited for it.

"He was dead before they got him to the ambulance."

John took a deep breath and Elliot stared at the far wall. That explained why the fourth ambulance was just sitting in the parking lot. Hanging around to offer supplies if extras were needed perhaps. No need to rush to a hospital when your cargo's already dead.

Cragen leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. "Morgue's destroyed," he went on. "They couldn't save the upper floor. The building was fully involved by the time the buses left the lot."

They all realized what this meant...but the ramifications wouldn't fully sink in for another day or two. Nothing since RHex had entered the autopsy suite this morning had fully registered yet.

"I'm gonna head upstairs, see Warner for a minute," Don suddenly announced. "I'll swing back down by TCU in a couple of hours." The three men shared a look and then Cragen left the room and headed to the elevators. What he didn't tell either of them was why he needed to see her.

He hated being the bearer of bad news and the news he had to share with Melinda was about the worst he could imagine. As its bearer, he felt like an ass.

Dante Sandoval's body had not been able to be retrieved before the building had burned to the ground.

**xxx  
3:00 pm**

TCU was a quiet floor. The vast majority of patients here were the elderly, recovering from hip or falling injuries before they were admitted to long-term care homes.

Olivia's eyes jerked open, but she wasn't sure what'd woken her this time. She'd been dropping off in little fits and dozes since being moved; every time a bed squeaked or someone spoke while they were getting Fin settled beside her, she'd startle back awake.

Fin.

She turned her head to the right. Tutuola was getting himself positioned. He looked horrible, scratches here and there, hair disheveled and frizzy after being washed, and a fantastic bruise forming over his eye. The CNA attending to him got him comfy, adjusted the flow on the mask, and then left the room.

Knowing better, Olivia pulled the mask off her face for a moment and rolled half on her right side. "Wow," she rasped. And then coughed.

Fin turned to look at her. He frowned at the expression on her face. He pulled his own mask away. "What?"

Cough. "You look like crap, Fin."

Fin laughed (or coughed, it was hard to tell the difference at the moment). Which made her laugh. Several minutes passed before their breathing and coughing were under control enough again that they could talk.

Which they didn't do.

A full six minutes passed before they did anything at all. Olivia put her right arm out across the space between them, palm up.

Cough. "Thanks for stickin around, by the way." Her voice was quiet. The room was on fire. Fin could have, and probably should have, gotten out. But she knew he hadn't. For her. The dressing wrapped around his hand was proof.

Fin flashed a small smile and reached across to drop his hand in hers. "You think I was gonna try heavin your ass outta there myself?" He quipped. Cough. "Was waitin for help." Beat. He gave her hand a good squeeze. "You're welcome."

She smiled. They released each other as the CNA came back in, scolding them both for removing their masks. They were repositioned, Fin slapping the girl's hand away as he insisted he could put it back on himself.

Olivia rolled to her back again, smiling softly to herself as the aide put another pillow under her left elbow to keep her arm level. The blankets heaped over her, the narcotic pain medication in her system, the soft beeps of monitors in the room...she felt her eyes drooping again.

She didn't even try to fight it.

**xxx  
3:30 pm**

Elliot and John sat together in the room Fin and Olivia shared. John talked quietly with Fin, while Benson slept. The constant poking and needling and repositioning over the last two hours coupled with the gentle shower had flat had probably exhausted them both and Olivia had apparently succumbed not long after they'd been settled.

Clean now and warm, they looked infinitely better than they had mere hours ago. Their faces were clear of soot streaks, their hair was dry, and instead of the standard thin hospital gowns, they'd been given long sleeved scrubs and were piled with blankets. The back of Fin's left hand was wrapped and taped - he'd been using it to shield Benson when the Formalin had spilled off the counter over them both - and the O2 masks had to stay at least another couple hours, or until the coughing subsided on its own.

After a little while, Fin eventually lost the same battle with Morpheus that Olivia'd surrendered to and that half of the room gradually fell silent. There was a quiet creak of plastic as John stood.

"Probably gonna sleep for a week," he murmured dryly of himself _and_ his partner. "You want anything before I head out?"

Elliot thought about it for a second, then shook his head. "I'm okay."

John put a hand on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something...but then nothing came, so he closed it. He gave the shoulder a brotherly squeeze, then moved around him and left the room.

Elliot stared.

The shower had been a rather bittersweet necessity. It had to have made her more comfortable, but it also revealed the extent of the nightmare she and Fin had just been pulled from. Without the smudges of dark soot streaking her skin to hide them, Elliot could see little scratches from shattered glass flying through the room dotting one side of her forehead like tiny red buttonholes. The dark smudges under her eyes had nothing to do with soot, and her overall color was terrible.

He glanced across the low-lit room to Fin. He looked just as bad. He looked somewhat less intimidating when his hair wasn't slicked back, and his right eye where Ryan had clocked him was already swollen and bruising. Little blisters on the back of his fingers were poking out beneath the dressing.

"You ought to go home yourself, you know."

Stabler didn't turn around as Cragen spoke quietly from the doorway.

"We've been up just as long." He put his hands in his pockets and laughed quietly. "Longer now," he added as he looked at both his detectives and heard their deep breathing. Elliot didn't move.

"Elliot there's nothing we can do for them right now."

"I should be here. I need to be."

"No, what you _need_ is to go home to your family. They'll be asleep for hours. When they wake up, they're going to need us, but we're no use to them if we're dead on our feet and unable to think straight. It's over, Elliot. Running yourself into the ground now isn't going to help her." He couldn't sound as stern as he wanted to, partly because he understood the need. They couldn't be with either of them then, where they could be now.

For once, Elliot didn't argue and he sighed deeply as he stood and rubbed his neck. He realized he did miss his family. Dickie'd gotten an A on his first math test this month. He was supposed to take him bowling this afternoon. "My car's back at the station," he suddenly remembered.

Alex had appeared, unnoticed, in the doorway some time ago. "I'm on my way out," she offered softly.

"Yeah." He nodded. "You'll--"

"Docs said they'd call if anything changed," Cragen finished for him. "Get some sleep." In the days to follow, they would all need it.

Elliot nodded. With a final look back into the room, he crossed his arms and disappeared with Alex down the hall.

Ignoring his own advice, Don pulled the chair Elliot had just vacated between the two beds of the room and sat slowly, looking between each detective.

It'd taken a few hours longer than it had for Elliot, but the realization didn't hit Cragen with any less force.

Fin and Olivia were safe. They were relatively unhurt. The proof was lying right in front of him. However, to get them out alive he'd had to make the call that was the reason another cop he was responsible for was lying in the burn ward with a machine breathing for him. He would probably die.

The sudden swell of emotion that up until now hadn't been allowed a foothold took the captain by surprise, and he had to take a deep breath. Forfeiting self-control to the acknowledgement that it was, in fact, over, Don rested his elbows on his knees and bent his head. The last almost eighteen hours were hitting him at once, battering him from all sides and harassing his objectivity with the vehement reminder that, with them, he could no longer _be_ objective. One hand covered his eyes.

His exhausted detectives slept on, blissfully ignorant of the fact that Fin's quiet snoring was no longer the only sound in the room.

**End Part 10**


	11. The Trailing Edge

CHAPTER TITLE: "The Trailing Edge"

PAIRINGS: None specified

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well, stable-ish.  
RATING: M  
WARNINGS: Language. Angst. Lots of angst. Big frakkin angst fest. (Like the rest hasn't been one, lol)

SUMMARY: Vengeance reigned, life was disrupted, and now faith in a legal system they'd given everything for is being shredded in the wake..

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: _I am so sorry that this took so long to update. Multiple deaths in the family and a job layoff in the last 3 months delayed my muses. Thank you SO so much to those of you who emailed asking over me/the story. It really means a lot to know you're still interested. Now let's get on with the show._

"**The Trailing Edge"**

_(Two days later)_  
**Thursday Jan 23rd  
1:35 pm  
Fairview Cemetery, Fairview**

Donald Cragen hated winter.

He hated the snow. He hated the cold. He hated the way the sun would shine on clear days, but offer absolutely no heat through its rays. It was insulting, really. Cruel. If a season was going to make life cold for five months solid, the damn sun shouldn't shine at all.

Certainly not on days like this.

The captain heaved a quiet sigh as he looked around him. The service was over. The throng of people was starting to thin out as the friends and family who had come to honour and mourn Jay Wheylan started to leave. Dress shoes crunched over dead grass as their respective owners sidestepped mounds of snow that, now the storm had passed, was being given an opportunity to melt. Quiet murmurings filled the air, soft conversation mingled with smatterings of sniffs and cleared throats.

Jay had passed away Tuesday night. The damage had been too severe, the extent of it too overwhelming. Infection had set in late that afternoon and as the clocks had reached nine o'clock, his heart finally failed. Don got the call at a quarter after. He'd known it would come...but that knowledge had not prepared him for what the eventuality would do to him when it happened.

He'd been told countless time since by people who thought they knew best that it wasn't his fault. He'd heard it all - he'd had no choice, his call that morning had saved lives, him or them, and on and on. Regardless of how it was said, the fact remained a cold weight in his chest...

He had gotten one of his officers killed that day.

Cragen shifted his posture. He felt uncomfortable in his strictly proper dress uniform and the cap felt as if it weighed a ton. He took it off and rubbed a hand over his head. He was getting a headache; he did not want to be dressed like this. Not for this reason. A sideways glace at the departing crowd made him wish he'd thought to bring his sunglasses. Something to hide behind as he stared at the polished mahogany casket before him, the spray of gladiolas and stargazer lilies on its lid twitching slightly in the faint breeze. The flag was gone. It had been given to Jay's mother, and Don could not meet her eyes again. The look in them as he'd presented her with that flag not ten minutes earlier was enough to sour him from letting his eyes wander at all, lest they fall on someone else who harboured the same expression she had.

"Cap."

Don turned. Elliot was standing next to him, hands in the pockets of his coat. He didn't say anything else, but the captain took his approach to mean that the others were ready to go now as well. He looked past Stabler a couple of yards. Alex stood off by herself a few feet, waiting patiently. Munch stood next to Fin, who was standing next to Olivia. Benson's long coat was just resting draped over her shoulders. His eyes flicked down a bit - between folds of the coat, Fin's left hand discreetly held her right.

He was surprised his two detectives had come. Olivia was still on pain meds three times a day and the dark bruising around Fin's eye hadn't yet started to fade, but they each had insisted they attend the funeral. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised at all, considering how well he knew the both of them. He'd spoken briefly with them just a few hours ago; there had been many things in each's eyes, but blame in any fashion had not been among them.

Cragen wished he could say the same of himself.

Elliot watched his captain closely and could see by the look in his eyes where his thoughts were taking him. Elliot had been down that road. He glanced briefly at Olivia, who was walking back to Alex's car. He sighed and looked away. He was still at the dead end of it. "We should go," he said quietly to Cragen. His eyes tracked the funeral home workers as they milled about somewhat restlessly across the small road that ran through the cemetery. "Think the home wants to finish closing the site."

There was a moment absent of reaction, and then Don nodded. "Yeah." He slid his cap back on and then turned his back on the gravesite and followed his detective to the road, his own shoes folding blades of yellow dead grass beneath their soles.

He hated winter.

**4:30 pm  
Precinct**

Soft 'clinks' sounded through the squad room. Elliot had dumped his pen mug out on his desk and was absently tossing the pens back into it. This would be round five. He was trying to ignore the fact that Olivia wasn't looking at him, and hadn't the entire day thus far. He looked away.

John, ever the obsessive compulsive, was straightening up what was left of the mess the crisis team had made of the squad room and though Cragen had given both Fin and Olivia till at least Sunday off, Tutuola too had wanted to come in for a few hours after the service just to square away some of his days-old work.

They were all waiting for Cragen's door to open. Andrew Hedges' trial was today. Considering the fact he'd confessed and pleaded guilty, all they were really waiting for was the sentencing to finish. As soon as that verdict was in, they could close at least one case this month and go home.

'Clink'. Last pen for round five. Elliot grabbed the mug and upended it. Time for round six. "How's the eye?" He directed at Fin after a moment.

"S'good," the other man replied from his desk after a second. "Prolly get the stitches out by Saturday."

'Clink.' "Good."

Silence.

'Clink'. He debated for a second over whether or not conversation was wise, then threw caution to the wind and looked across his desk to his partner as she wrote something on hers. "How's your arm?" 'Clink.'

Olivia kept writing. Didn't look up. "It's fine," was the short, quiet reply.

Elliot cheered mentally. 'Clink.' It wasn't much but at least, if she had to, she was speaking to him. It still didn't matter what she said, just hearing her voice while being able to see her right in front of him at the same time was enough.

'Clink.'

Cragen watched from the window of his office as Elliot looked around the squad room for someone else to try to make conversation with. The precinct as a whole had been giving the Special Victims Unit a wide berth since Tuesday morning. None of the other officers came in unless they had to, and when they did they didn't say anything more than was necessary to get their job done and then they were gone again. It was as if this unspoken announcement had been made through the precinct that the unit required solitude to recover from this.

The captain, personally, thought that the exact opposite was probably more accurate with regards to some things. In fact, as he watched two of his people he was sure of it. They didn't need solitude to heal.

They needed help.

All four detectives looked up from what they were doing as he opened his door, blinds on the window rattling as they swung, and stepped out. He met their expectant gazes with a short nod. "Jury only took ten minutes," he reported. "Thirty-five with the possibility of parole after thirty." He paused. "Go home people."

It didn't take any of them long to acquiesce his suggestion, and they each stood grabbing their coats. A frown creased the already furrowed lines in his forehead as he watched Olivia leave the squad room first and fastest, not speaking to any of them as she pulled her coat over her shoulders. Munch and Fin were not far behind her leaving just as hastily, but something about Benson's exit worried him. Her posture, her face...several things were at work there and piece by piece Cragen could tell whatever it all added up to was destroying his detective if they hadn't already. He decided to try and fix at least one of those forces where he could.

"Elliot." Cragen stopped Stabler before he could make his own getaway.

Elliot pulled his coat on. He rubbed at the corner of one eye as he closed the desk drawer he'd gotten his keys from. "Yeah."

Don put his hands in his pockets. His dress cap lay abandoned on his desk behind him. "This has to stop."

"Sorry?"

Cragen looked at him pointedly. "Have you talked to her?"

Elliot's posture sagged and after a moment he shook his head. "No."

"Elliot--"

"I can't, Cap. Not yet."

"You're going to have to face her eventually."

"I don't deserve it."

"You do." There was a pause. Cragen's next words made him look up. "So does she."

Elliot stared. He didn't respond. Didn't know how, or with what. Cragen was right, but Elliot didn't know how to make it right by Olivia. Wasn't sure he could.

Don nodded at him when he didn't get a reaction that signaled he was about to argue. "Go home, Elliot. I don't want to see you back in this building until you and Olivia can look each other in the eye as partners again."

Elliot didn't reply other than to sigh heavily. God he hated it when Cragen did things like this. He wanted simple. Simple was synonymous with avoidant right now. After a few more seconds, Don won the stare-off and Elliot looked away. Without a word he turned and left the squad room, flipping his lamp off as he passed his desk.

Don's eyes followed him until he rounded the squad room doors. With a sigh of his own he turned and went back into his office.

He didn't think he'd be seeing the other man again until well after Sunday.

**xxx  
4:40 pm**

"Alex it's okay, really." Pause. "Yeah I'm sure. A cab is not a big deal." Another pause. A small smile. "Yes, I'm really sure. I'll be fine." Pause. "You bet. See you tomorrow."

Olivia closed her phone, her new phone, and stood on the sidewalk staring at cars without seeing them. Distant sirens were reverberating off the city around her. She couldn't go out the back doors like usual. The back doors led to the parking terrace. Across the parking terrace lay the charred remains of Warner's building. And she couldn't bring herself to face that devastation just yet. She had too much other wreckage to clear first.

She was frustrated and angry. More at the position she now found herself in, though, than at any one person in particular and certainly not at Alex. Heaving a puff of air up her forehead she opened her phone again to call a cab in case she was unsuccessful in flagging one down on the spot. She didn't put an outstanding amount of effort into it though; she was feeling lazy and totally unmotivated. She was seriously considering just walking.

"Olivia!"

She turned as Fin came trotting down the front steps. She closed the flip. "Hey."

"Thought you was riding with Cabot."

"Yeah." Benson offered a thin smile. "Something's come up. She just called. Probably won't be leaving until at least seven."

Fin's dark face creased. "Something bad?"

"She wouldn't say." She opened her phone again.

"Wanna ride?"

"It's okay."

"Really s'no trouble."

She shook her head. "It's out of your way, Fin," she said absently, her attention half on the ringing phone, half somewhere else entirely. "I'm fine."

Fin processed that for a second then came to a quick decision. She wasn't 'fine'. She looked distracted, out of sorts. Off. "Tell you what." He reached out and took her phone from her, closing it gently and disregarding the look she shot him. "How 'bout I don't make it question. I drive you home. I still owe you that coffee. We go somewhere halfway, that way when we're done it's not out of my way."

Olivia stared at him silently while she considered this new option. It was either this, a cab, or... Well shit. Once again, Tutuola had presented her with a way out of dealing with her par... with Elliot, her mind solemnly corrected itself. She couldn't be sure the word 'partner' applied to them anymore. She relented with a tired smile. "Deal."

"Good." Fin smiled, petulantly triumphant in his victory over a woman that he knew precious few could say they'd ever won an argument with. He handed her phone back as he led them across the street to his car. His locks clicked open. "Know anywhere that's halfway?"

Her chuckle was lost against the muffled 'whump whump' of his car doors being pulled closed.

**8:47 pm  
Office of Elizabeth Donnelly**

"Alex, I'm sorry." Elizabeth Donnelly held up her hands. This was the second time in two months she'd had the other woman in her office about this case, and both were _very_ tired of being here.

"You have to do something," Alex protested. "Anything." She was not above begging, and after nearly five hours of legal banter, yelling, and the tossing about of mutually vindictive obscenities, was getting very close to doing just that. "This can't end like this. Not for them."

"There's nothing I _can_ do, counselor. I can't rewrite the law nor the way we uphold it."

"You've got strings for God's sake, Elizabeth, pull some!"

"I want to see justice done with our cases as much as you, Alex," the older woman said as calmly as a woman about to lose her temper could. "He's already been put away for twenty-five to life.."

"For shooting a police officer," Alex interrupted hotly, still unable to believe what was going down. "Not for murder. You're telling me that I have to go back to that precinct and tell four detectives that the law's just walked all over them, stomped their efforts into the ground..."

"You can word it however you like, Alex." Donnelly crossed her hands over her desk. "But I suggest you tell them the truth, and that you do it before they have to hear it through the proverbial grapevine."

"But we have bodies.."

"Bodies that only prove they were murdered, not by whom."

"This is unbelievable..." Cabot shook her head, hands at her hair, and tried to control herself. "How is this fair?" She dropped her hands and rested them on her hips, an almost accusatory look on her face. "Tell me how this is fair."

Donnelly sighed and stood. "No one said this job _was_ fair, Alex. What happened, happened. We can't change it. We take it as it comes and now we just have to deal with it the best we can."

"That's a fabulous consolation to the two women buried upstate," Alex snapped.

"Their problems are over," Elizabeth said with the cold finality she was so famous for. A finality that signaled this conversation was over. She pulled her coat from the rack standing in the corner. "Ours are just beginning, counselor, and the whole department, not just SVU, is going to feel it. I suggest we focus on that." She nodded at the door.

Alex stared at her agape for several seconds. Unable to think of something suitable to say to keep this argument going in the hopes she might win, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the office.

God she hated her job sometimes. The heat propelling her steps didn't abate even after she'd gotten out of the courthouse, doors slamming.

**Friday Jan 24th  
7:15 am  
Precinct**

Olivia avoided eye contact with everyone she could as she made through the halls towards headquarters. She dreaded the moment she stepped in the squad room because she knew the second she walked in she'd get...

"I thought I gave both of you the week off."

That.

Benson fought a sigh as she moved to the wall to hang her coat and stow her gloves. She offered Cragen a totally unfeeling smile as she went to her desk. Fin was already sitting at his. "I ahh.." She shrugged her one shoulder. "I just wanted to come in today," she supplied.

It was a blatant lie. She didn't want to be here. But stronger than her wish to be at home was her need to be surrounded by her squad. If let alone, she would think, and thinking only got her into trouble in recent days.

Don lifted an eyebrow and she smiled again to appease his concern, stating, "I'll take it easy. I just need something to do."

That seemed to be enough and he didn't press the issue any further. "How's Doc Warner?"

"I called before I left," she answered, glad to be moving away from the previous train of conversation. "The service starts at nine. She seems to be holding up okay."

"Dante?" John asked, watching both her and Fin discreetly but closely.

"Yeah." Olivia nodded. "Private service. Family only. But his parents knew how highly he spoke of Warner so..." she trailed off. "Couple other techs will be there as well."

"Good. Tangent incoming," Cragen started. "Any of you heard from Cabot lately?"

Fin made a face. "What?" Where'd that come from?

"Alex?" Olivia puzzled. "I talked to her last night around four-thirty," she offered. "Why?" Her chest hitched with a sense of dread that had been tightening steadily since Tuesday night.

"I got a phone call from her at about ten o'clock last night, said there was a problem."

"She say what?" Asked Fin.

Don shook his head. "Didn't want to talk about it over the phone. I tried calling her at home this morning but she's already left and she's not picking up her mobile.."

He cut off, glancing out the squad room into the hall as a Coke machine vendor clattered along the tile with his stock. Ordinarily the captain wouldn't have paid a woman there in that hall any mind, except for the fact that this one pulled a passing officer aside and he faintly head his name leave her lips. He did not recognize her.

The officer she'd flagged down nodded and then looked into the squad room and gestured right at Don. He frowned as the woman smiled a thanks and approached, the heels of her dress shoes clicking on the barren floor. She ignored the other detectives at their desks as she weaved through them right up to the captain.

"There something I can help you with, ma'am?" He inquired as she'd clearly come here with a purpose that involved him.

"You're Captain Donald Cragen?"

"I am."

She reached out and handed him a stack of papers, folded in thirds. "Best of luck to you, sir," she said kindly and professionally as he took them with a quizzical look on his face. She turned around and left the squad room, leaving him bewildered and nervous. He felt like he'd just been served...

Well aware that his officers were watching him, Cragen unfolded the papers and turned them to read what had been typed on the legal paper. After a few seconds he blinked and his arms dropped to his sides. A dark look filled his eyes as they darted to the doors. "You've got to be kidding." Son of a bitch...now he knew what Alex wanted him for.

Three pairs of eyes followed his in watching her, waiting. When it was clear the mystery woman had fully cleared the squad room and was well out of earshot, those eyes turned on him.

"The hell was that about?" Fin wondered aloud for all three of them.

"Jay's family is suing the department for damages." Cragen slapped the papers down on Elliot's empty desk, his eyes tracking Fin and Olivia - this would affect them in ways it wouldn't the rest of the precinct.

Stunned silence reigned for several seconds before the words registered and anger sunk in. Fin's expression was the first to harden. "The hell for!" He exclaimed.

Olivia reached out and snatched up the stack of papers, something that scared her swelling hot and fast. She read quickly and then shook her head in disbelief. "They're citing us for negligence in not catching Jay's "..state of mental health prior to his apparent psychotic break.."," she quoted from the papers she held. "They're saying we could have prevented it." She set the papers down and looked up. "They can't possibly think they have a case here..." She couldn't believe what she'd just read and she was surprised at what it was doing to her.

"Captain." No one got the chance to answer as George Huang came striding into the squad room. He saw the looks on their faces and knew. "Don, I'm so sorry," he began in a rush. "They caught me as I was leaving this morning, I tried to get here before them.."

"They deal you this crap too?" Cragen pulled the papers from Benson's hand.

The profiler nodded. "They don't have any kind of case," he assured them..or tried to. "I evaluated Jay myself less than a month ago. There was _nothing_ to suggest that he was at all mentally unstable or otherwise psychologically unfit for duty. They're digging. They're angry and they're hurt, we just happen to be the largest outlet for that grief."

"This is ludicrous," Olivia piped up, unable to contain it any longer. "We were down there, Cap, the only reason any of it happened in the first place was because of Ryan."

"I know."

"Makes perfect sense then right? Your nephew gets your son killed, so go ahead and blame the cops they held at gunpoint for eighteen hours."

"I'm not saying we just let this go to a hearing," Don said strongly. There was a fire in her eyes Cragen was not accustomed to seeing there and it actually scared him.

"The fact we even have to _fight_ something like this is insulting...I mean, this is what we get for what we do now? A lawsuit?"

"Olivia.." Cragen started to get stern.

"Just...don't," she snapped and stood up. She knew the drill; leave now, come back when you were cool. She pulled a wad of change off her desk and without a word left the squad room.

"Think she's got a little Stabler in her," John quipped somewhat darkly.

Cragen looked at Huang.

"I'll address it," the profiler said quickly, for he had been selected to be the one to talk with both Tutuola and Benson regarding their experience and was set to sit down with Olivia on Monday.

"Buncha bull crap," Fin muttered with an angry shake of his head as Cragen went into his office to begin his list of phone calls.

**xxx  
2:23 pm**

Cragen watched his detectives from his office. John was telling some story or another and Fin wasn't paying any attention. Olivia was rolling her neck and popping what, he suspected, was probably a painkiller. Her temper had cooled somewhat in the last few hours, but he still got the impression that at the smallest spark the scale would tip again and he'd lose her to a dark side he'd never witnessed in her before. Obviously things had not yet been resolved between her and Elliot because Stabler hadn't come in today.

He was glad that so far nothing more than paperwork was being done today. No cases had come through. Even if one had, he would have had to sign it off to another department; as things stood right now, his people couldn't handle it. He wouldn't even let them try what with Fin and Olivia still recovering physically, Elliot unwilling to bend to his pride, and now the legal mess with...

"Alex."

Cragen looked up as he heard Olivia speak the name. The A.D.A. was coming into the squad room looking harried.

"Captain's been looking for you."

Don was striding out of his office as Cabot was approaching it. "This is horseshit, Alex," he began.

She nodded and looked at everyone. Damn, so they'd heard it from other sources first anyway. "I know, Captain, and I'm so sorry. Believe me, I'm just as angry. I've been in meetings with Donnelly all day trying to find a way through it."

"Donnelly?" Olivia had a puzzled look on her face. What did she have to do with the lawsuit?

"I've been trying to get her to..." Cabot let her thoughts trail as she looked around the room. A nervous smile crept onto her face. "Why do I get the feeling that we're not angry about the same thing?"

"You've not heard?" Olivia asked her.

"Heard what?" She was feeling desperate now.

Cragen handed her the papers and she slid her glasses on. A moment passed while she read and then she looked up with a shocked expression. "This can't be serious."

"Huang got slapped with the same thing."

"Good God," Cabot rubbed her eyes and handed the suit notice back.

"What good news'd you wake up to?" Fin asked with a jerk of his head her direction.

Alex felt ill. So they got landed with this lawsuit this morning and now she had to break her news of last night to them? She closed her eyes and shook her head. Unable to find a way to say it gently, she finally just stated limply, "I can't put Daniel Fenyak away for the murders of Nance Stewart and Stacy Morin." She kept her eyes closed and waited for it.

Cragen was the first to break the silence. "You've had tough cases before, Alex We knew it wasn't going to be easy."

She shook her head and her eyes opened. "This isn't tough, Captain. This is impossible. Legally. I can't do it."

"But you have the evidence, Alex," Olivia said, confused. "You just have to make the case."

"Had the evidence," Cabot corrected. "Had. Past tense. As of Tuesday morning, I have nothing."

There was a pause and then Fin clenched a fist, crumpling the piece of paper he'd had on his desk at the moment. "Shit."

"The fire," Benson deduced a second later. Alex inclined her head once. Olivia slapped her pen down on her desk. "Jesus."

"All the evidence from that case should have been moved from the morgue weeks ago," Don stated.

"Oh it was," Alex confirmed. "At least all the paper. Photos, prints...The only problem is that Monday morning a file clerk from Donnelly's office took that documentation down to Warner to have her clarify some of her dictations on the autopsy photos and the shots taken of the tread mark print Daniel left in the mud at Nance's house were in that box." She looked at the detectives, her fury at this file clerk still clear in her tone. "Warner's techs never took it down to her. File clerk ran another errand, forgot, left the box there overnight. It was upstairs. Plaster made of the same footprint was in imaging."

"Christ," Don muttered savagely and rubbed a hand over his face.

"But the bodies," John began.

"Only prove they were murdered," Alex, to her disgust, found she could do nothing but mirror her superior's words. "Not who was responsible. Even _if_ I can convince a judge to sign an excavation order, it's been weeks. Daniel's defense lawyer will rip me a new one if I try to present a murder case with that kind of flawed evidence. It'd never hold. It'd never make it past the courtroom doors."

"What about prints?" Fin questioned. "We gotta have copies a them somewhere..."

"We do," Alex nodded. "From the attempted murder charge," she added with a look at Olivia.

"What about his confession?" Don dug.

"He only confessed to pulling the trigger on Olivia," she countered right back. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do. Less probably. But unless we find the murder weapon and it's got Daniel's prints on it, I have no case."

They'd all known that this was a possibility, that the fire had ruined more than just the building across the parking lot. Narcotics had informed Fin privately a couple of nights ago that the case Warner had been posting the night of the standoff had had to be scrapped. Every tox screen, DNA test, fiber analysis...all of the cases being formed were gone. But to have one that affected their own squad so personally tossed like this was a blow none of them had prepared for because the evidence of the case wasn't supposed to have been actively processed anymore. Murphy had struck again.

"So that's it then." Eyes turned to Benson. She shrugged, a harsh, bitter gesture. "Just like this. Daniel walks."

Don was shaking a hand. "Not necessarily. Now we still have him for twenty-five for the shooting.."

But she was not to be placated. This was the straw, her back was broken. "Oh now there's a consolation," she shot out before she could stop herself. "Why don't we leave a note on Nance and Stacy's graves with that on it."

"Liv--" Fin tried.

She was standing now, shoving papers into her boxes. "Or better still, how about we go talk to their parents."

"Olivia," Alex began, anguished.

"What kind of message has just been sent here?" Olivia went on. "New York's just shown every perp with an agenda how to get out of conviction." She snatched her keys from her drawer. "Killed your girlfriend? No big deal, just torch the morgue."

"Olivia.."

"No." She pointed a finger at her captain. She trembled all over. "This is it. I've had enough." She stormed past where Alex stood and yanked her coat off its hook. She was blinking hard and fast, an emotion she'd never dealt with on this kind of level surging through her.

Rage.

"We have spent our lives busting our _asses_ for this city and the moment we need its help the most, it turns its back." She thought of the lawsuit. "Shoves a knife in ours before tossing us out to fend for ourselves. I'm done."

"Olivia I want--"

"What, me to go home?" Benson shook her head as she walked backwards through the squad room. "Don't bother. I'll save you the trouble of sending me. I quit. New York City can go to hell. I'll see it there." She turned around and then in a flurry of wool coat was gone, leaving a thunderstruck squad room staring after her.

**xxx  
3:09 pm**

John stood for a long time not saying a word. He found Olivia outside, sitting on a crate next to the Dumpster behind the station. It was somewhat warmer than the last time he'd been out here, but he could still see her breath when she exhaled.

"You going for the slow peaceful death?" He walked carefully towards her and sat on a crate to her right. "I hear with hypothermia you just get tired first. Doze off, close your eyes... Next thing, you're singing to St. Nicholas."

"Peter," Benson corrected him automatically in a dull voice.

"Jewish," Much returned. "What d'you do."

Olivia sighed but didn't look at him. "There a point to this?"

"Not really," John shrugged. "But I couldn't think of anything clever to say myself, so I just copied something some idiot said to me the other day."

The two sat silent for a minute or two. "Cragen can send as many people after me as he likes," she stated flatly. Didn't matter how many, or who. She no longer cared.

"Cragen doesn't know I'm here." John's voice had lost its sarcastic wit, the humour gone.

"Why are you?"

"I don't really know," Munch said quietly and with another shrug. "But I'm sure whenever that's revealed to me, I'll be glad I came looking."

Silence fell again, spanning several more minutes than the last time, Olivia not appearing to want to talk at all, John not knowing how to say whatever needed to be said to help.

"I'm really going to lose my job, aren't I," she said miserably as she stared at nothing.

"Nah." John watched cars pass by, staring at the street through the alley. "But you're going to get to be real good friends with the department shrink."

"Heh. Yeah."

Whatever else he'd been expecting never came, and Olivia heaved a breath and stood from her crate. He stood with her. "Home the next port of call?"

"Good a place as any," was her short reply as she sniffed.

He spoke again before he had time to think about what words were leaving his mouth. "It's got to come eventually, Olivia."

She wouldn't look at him as she made a deliberate effort not to while doing up the buttons of her coat. "What," she asked lamely.

"You're not fooling anyone, least of all me. Just you, me, and the walls out here."

"I'm _fine_, John," she declared, voice shaking.

"Uh huh.." With one hand John stilled hers as she tried to finish buttoning her coat one-handed. His other touched her chin and lifted gently until she had no choice but to look at him. Her lips started to waver the second her eyes met with what was in his. Tears threatened to fall and she hung her head. John's hand moved to cup the side of her face.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered. "I just.." She couldn't finish whatever it was she'd been about to say. John's touch had evaporated what walls were left, the damn had finally broken, and Olivia started to cry quietly.

Very gently John pulled her close, keeping his one hand on her neck and moving the other (mindful of her shoulder) to wrap carefully around her back. She resisted neither gesture and a second later her forehead was resting against his chest. Quiet tears were gradually coaxed into a full release until after only a minute or so Olivia was weeping without restraint. Munch folded her in a little tighter.

"Let it go, Olivia," he whispered into her hair as he supported her slender frame while it shook. He didn't care if she heard a lick of what he was saying. His purpose in coming after her had been revealed and he knew it wasn't his words but his presence that would carry the weight as he lifted hers from her shoulders for a little while.

He did not care how long it took and his own words could not have rung more true.

He was glad he had come looking.

**  
****End Part 11**

A/N - _I promise I'll have Chapter 12 up by tomorrow night. Thank you all for waiting so patiently on me! You're a writer's dream._


	12. Aftermath

CHAPTER TITLE: "Aftermath"

PAIRINGS: None specified.

SEASON: Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler marriage is still, well..stable-ish.

RATING: M

WARNINGS: Angst mother load, grab the waders.

SUMMARY: Physically, emotionally, or metaphorically speaking the question remains the same: Re-build with what's left, or admit defeat and just wipe the slate clean?

DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: _Last one, and now you're done with me :D Hooray you're all saying, hehe. Thanks so much for keeping with me through this. Guys've been my bread and butter.  
_

**"Aftermath"**

**Saturday Jan 25th  
11:20 am  
Apartment of Olivia Benson**

Jimmy Hendrix blared from a CD player in one corner of the small living room as Olivia went to town in her kitchen. She hadn't done dishes in at least six days and when she'd gone to make a sandwich for lunch around ten, she'd realized she didn't have any clean ones left. It wasn't easy, cleaning dishes with only one fully functional arm, but at least it gave her something to do other than think.

It was nearing eleven-thirty when she thought she heard something at her door. Quickly grabbing the remote for the player she turned the volume down and stood still, listening.

"Detective Benson?" Came a male voice from the other side. She'd thought so. "It's Professor Oakins.."

Olivia put the remote down and picked up a small dishtowel to dry her hands. "One second!" She called and then quickly dried off the glass 8 by 8 dish she'd just washed. The professor lived just down the hall and when she'd come home from the Stablers his wife'd brought her a small pan of lasagna. He'd called last night and asked if he could pick up the pan this morning after he returned from an errand. She tossed the towel on the counter and strode to the door.

"Sorry it took so long," she said with a smile as she undid the chain and pulled open her door. "I've been..." The smile froze on her face as she looked past the middle-aged man and saw who was standing in the hall behind him. Damn Captain Cragen... She looked away and handed the blond man his pan. "I've been busy. Thanks again for the lasagna," she said sincerely. "Be sure to thank Melanie for me."

"Will do. You take care of that arm, now." He acknowledged both her and the man he'd let come through the front doors with him with a smile and then moved down the hall to his own apartment.

"Didn't think I'd get in any other way." Elliot shrugged casually after the professor had gone in and closed his door. He was pretty sure had he been left to his own devices that Olivia wouldn't even under duress open her door if he'd been the only one standing on the other side of it. Getting in the doors downstairs wouldn't have been a problem even had Jim Oakins not shown up - Elliot had the door code to her building for the same reason Olivia had a spare key to his home.

Furious but unable to get out of the situation that'd he'd just thrust her into, Olivia turned away and went back to her kitchen without a word. She left the door open, hoping he'd get the hint, close it himself, and just go away.

Elliot moved into the apartment and closed the door quietly behind him. He didn't move any farther in, though, and instead stood right where he was. Several minutes passed in a thick, awkward silence.

"Did you want something?" She asked curtly as she started the water again and began rinsing the dishes she'd already washed. "Cragen send you too?" Porcelain clinked as she set plates in the drainer.

"We need to talk."

"We don't need to do anything."

"Okaaay," Elliot breathed a sigh. "_I_ need to talk," he amended.

"About what?" The tone of her voice betrayed that she had absolutely no interest in participating in whatever it was he wanted to discuss.

"You. Us. Work." She was still not looking at him.

"Work is no longer my problem. Didn't you hear?" She said sardonically and with a facetious smile. "I quit yesterday." She pulled the plug on the soapy water.

Elliot watched her, not saying a thing. Cragen had told him what had happened as well as Olivia's reaction to it. While he was just as infuriated with the circumstances he knew how deeply his partner felt things - she was taking it much harder, much more personally, than anyone else and he knew it was only going to compound everything else he had to try to correct today.

"So that's it, huh?" He said after a good five minutes of nothingness. "Just like that. You quit." Elliot hadn't moved from the door.

"That's what I said," Olivia confirmed from the kitchen as she loudly put the last of her dishes in the drainer to air dry. "You want it in writing? Read it? You don't seem to do too well when you have to listen with something other than your hormones, maybe your eyes'll be a little more objective."

Okay, he'd fully deserved that. Benson: 1, Stabler: 0. He logged it away and forged ahead. "Okay. Fine." Stabler shrugged and crossed his hands in front of his legs as he stood watching her. "You quit. I quit."

"Whatever." With an irritated shake of her head she tossed the dishtowel on the cutting board counter and sidestepped around the small island. She headed for her bedroom. She was tired of fighting. She was tired of hurting. She was just tired.

"No, you're right," he called after her. "I quit. Let's both just toss out everything we stand for and call it a night. See if New York's still standin' in the morning."

"I didn't let you in so you could use flippancy to get some kind of psychological upper hand here, Elliot," she said wearily from the other side of the room, walking backwards. She nodded at her apartment door. "You know the door codes, you can let yourself out. Now get the hell out of my apartment." And she turned back around to make her escape so she could disassemble in privacy.

Screw this. Elliot knew if she got into her bedroom and closed that door that they would never recover from this and he would lose her for good in more ways than one. Wrong was made right, right here, right now.

"You quit, I quit. Neither of us leaves without the other!"

The phrase snapped across the living room and caught Olivia square in its high beams. She stopped where she was in the doorway of her bedroom, frozen just at the threshold, her back to the rest of her apartment. Her right hand reached out, gripping the door frame as though she'd suddenly become unsteady on her feet.

Which she just had.

Several seconds passed with neither detective moving or saying anything while the CD continued to play from the corner. Then Olivia bent her head and a soft breath sounded through the still apartment. She didn't turn around.

"You heard."

The statement of realization was quiet, her low voice subdued and now void of the angry and bitter tones of just minutes ago. It was the signal Elliot had been waiting for and he finally moved away from her front door and crossed the living room slowly, stopping at the end of the sofa.

"I heard."

"How much?"

Pause. Lay it all on her now or hand her the sugar coating and let her guess... Elliot briefly considered lying. Then thought better. No more lies. Olivia didn't need to be coddled, she needed him to be honest. _He_ needed him to be honest. "We said some pretty horrible things, Fin."

"So all of it."

Elliot nodded though her back was turned. "Yeah."

Seconds passed. Olivia's head leaned to the right and rested against the door frame just above her hand as she all but whispered, "I didn't know how to tell you."

To him it looked as though that doorway was the only thing holding her up. He felt like he could use one himself right about now. "You tried. I didn't want to hear it."

There was no response.

Elliot felt uncomfortable in his own skin. He was standing less than six feet from Olivia, and yet he was light years away from his partner. He should be doing something other than just standing here looking at her back. But what? He was certain the moment he so much as reached out a hand he'd be struck down with some biblical proportioned lightning bolt. This was her emotional Ground Zero.

Holy ground.

And he did not belong here.

Very gradually a new sound began to replace the oppressive silence that had blanketed the apartment and the fact that she was trying to conceal what was happening reopened the tear that had formed during the standoff. Elliot felt sick. Each quiet sniff ripped it closer to his heart.

"Liv.."

"I'm sorry."

Guilt grabbed both sides of the tear and wrenched hard and fast in opposite directions. With two words, his soul had been rent. "What?"

Silence.

Suddenly Elliot was angry. Furious. What the hell gave her the right to feel she had to apologize to _him_? This part was supposed to be _his_ self-whipping, goddammit, and she'd just upstaged him. Benson: 2, Stabler: -10. He took a few steps towards her. His voice was low and shook. "Olivia Benson, I don't _ever_ want to hear those words leave your mouth again."

"Then what do you want, Elliot?" Tears were thick in her voice, clogging her throat and blurring the defeated articulation of her words. She still had not turned around. "I have nothing left to give. To the 16th, to you... Nothing."

Anger vanished as quickly as it'd come and the rush of sadness that replaced it left Elliot queasy. He bridged the gap between himself and her back. "I don't want you to give a thing," he said quietly. "I want you to be selfish. I want you to yell at me," he went on. "Scream, bitch, throw things, eat something unhealthy... I want you to do whatever it is you want to do right this second. Hell, I grew up Catholic, they tell us to turn the other cheek. I'll do that and you can smack that one too if you need. But I never want you to apologize to me again."

Sniff. "One of us has to say the words." Her hand moved from the door frame to wipe at her nose.

"Then let 'em come from me." A surge of emotion swelled inside him before he could stop it and his voice cracked and pitched as he added, "Cause I don't think we're gonna make it through this one if they don't." He was suddenly wiping at his own nose. He didn't want to get emotional. He didn't want her to _see_ him get emotional.

He was blinking back embarrassment as Olivia's stance shifted and a moment later fear gripped him as she finally slowly turned around. Her face was tear streaked and the curiosity, the raw vulnerability in her eyes that replaced the loathing he'd expected to see there stripped him of his need to retain dignity.

"I..." His control stuttered again. "God, Olivia. I'm so sorry," he croaked out, things finally breaking down to the core reason he'd come here this day. He averted his eyes, swiping at them quickly; 'sorry' didn't even cover it. "The words, they just came. They came and I knew what they were I just..." Elliot shrugged helplessly and looked away. "I couldn't stop them. I didn't--"

"Want to?"

He looked back; she was staring at the floor again. "Know how."

The small apartment again was filled only with the sounds of quiet sniffing and Jimmy Hendrix still playing from the corner. After a couple of minutes with no response from Olivia, Elliot moved back a few feet and slowly dropped onto her couch. His forearms rested on his knees as he stared at a book on the cushion of the chair kitty corner of him. A few minutes later he caught movement in front of him as she crossed past the coffee table. There was a quiet creaking as she cautiously sat on the other end of the sofa. He couldn't look that way.

"I..." Elliot cleared his throat. Composure was coming back. "I'm taking the evaluations."

"Yeah, well they did--"

"Never get the chance to force them like they said they were going to," Stabler cut her off quietly. "Standoff interrupted that. Cap ripped them a new one a couple days ago for what they did. Wednesday actually. Bought a little time. I went to 'em yesterday. First appointment's Tuesday. Technically it's all voluntary so...no admin leave."

More minutes passed and he felt more than saw Olivia wipe her eyes. "We can't go back."

Elliot took a slow breath, shook his head. "No. We can't."

"You don't want to.." It wasn't a question.

He paused. "No." He finally dared to look left. She was staring at him, the despair in her eyes unbridled and making them bright. A tiny, bitter smile twitched one side of his lips as he averted his gaze slightly off hers. "I don't like the person that exists back there, Liv. I don't want to be him again. Ever."

She kept staring at him as she shook her head slightly and said, quietly, "I can't forget. Forgive, maybe. Not forget. I can only give so much right now."

Elliot's nod was nearly imperceptible. He didn't expect, nor did he feel he deserved, even that much. He was contemplative for a few minutes before asking, "So where does this leave us?"

The pregnant pause was hers this time as she continued to stare at him. And then she surprised him with a simple statement that sent him rocking. "We're partners, Elliot."

Their eyes met for the first time in days and the charge that jumped through the gaze left them locked. "And where do we go from that?" Elliot asked not able to get his voice up to the decibel level he wanted it without waterworks.

"Wherever partners take each other." A small, sad smile lit her lips and braving to cross the cushion that separated them like some emotional Berlin Wall, Olivia reached her right hand out and closed her fingers around his left. "This one will be there for hers through his evaluations, if he'll stick around for her during hers."

Elliot looked down at their hands, his mind going back to how she'd squeezed his this same way in the ambulance on Tuesday. His eyes moved back up to hers. "That's a hefty commitment. His'll take a while," Sniff. "...he's pretty screwed up right now."

Olivia's reply was soft. "So is she."

Elliot swallowed hard, forcing back the thickness that congested his throat. "Can they make it through it?"

Two hands squeezed tightly as one partner answered the other.

"We'll ask them next week."

Conversation stopped and a spent calm descended over the two drained and weary detectives, filling the apartment with a sense of tenuous resolution.

Jimmy Hendrix played on.

_(One week later)_  
**Saturday Feb 1st  
4:45 pm  
Precinct**

Elliot turned off his lamp as Windows shut down and his computer went into hibernation. "Not going to be here too much later are you?" He asked the person sitting at the desk in front of his.

Olivia looked up from what she was doing. "Nah. I won't be long." She tapped the end of her pen down on the file she had open. "There's just a few things on this Ingram case I want to go over before I call it a weekend."

The squad room was somewhat deserted. Fin and John had already gone home and, bar Cragen, she and Elliot were the only ones left. Benson looked at her watch. "You're going to be late. Didn't you say your reservations were at six?"

"They were. Changed 'em last night to seven so Maureen'd be home to watch the twins." He pulled his coat on. "Want me to bring a doggie bag over later?" He knew she loved Greek so he just had to rub it in.

She flung her pen his direction at the stupid grin on his face and shook her head. "Get out of here," she said with chuckle and a smile of her own. She reached across her desk to swipe a pen out of the mug on his. "Tell Kathy hi."

"Yup. Don't work too hard," he called over his shoulder.

"Night," she called back as he disappeared out the door and down the hall.

True to her word, it wasn't too much later that Olivia was turning off her own lamp. Her watch was just ticking past a quarter after five as she pulled her coat over her shoulders and stood to get her gloves from her locker.

"Finally calling it, huh?"

Olivia turned. Cragen was standing near her desk. She nodded with a smile and shut her locker. "Yeah. Hot date with my bathtub tonight. Don't want to make him wait."

Don chuckled then took a good long look at his beleaguered detective. "How're you doing?" He asked with feeling as she came back to her desk to get her keys. She'd had him worried last week. He was still worried. He would always worry.

She knew by the look in his eyes that his question went beyond the casual implications that question usually carried. She took a minute to think then offered another small smile. "I've got a ways, Captain," she replied honestly.

He nodded and then gave her good arm a tender squeeze. "You'll get there."

She was quiet a moment, then offered a small smile. "I hope so." Both sides, for the moment, were satisfied. She adjusted her coat. "Any news on the murder weapon with Morin and Stewart?"

"Not yet. But we've got Queens and Chester looking now too." He added firmly, "We'll find it, Olivia."

She nodded and Cragen moved to go back to his office. "Captain." Olivia stopped him and he turned around. "Have you seen Warner? I saw her come in about an hour ago but I didn't see where she got to and I haven't been able to reach her on her mobile."

Don paused, looking uncomfortable, shifty, as though he had a secret he either didn't want to tell or wasn't allowed to.

Olivia frowned. "What's wrong?"

xxx

Dark orange early evening light was filtering through crevices between buildings whose occupants were starting to leave for the night. It fell on charred structural framing and slipped easily through splintered window frames. At one time light had to be invited in. Now it had free reign and it dappled over ruined furniture, played across stainless steel that no longer looked like metal. During some point in history, fire was universally associated with light, energy, warmth. Life. In the last lunar cycle, the members of Manhattan Special Victims, of Manhattan PD as a whole, had been introduced to the exact opposite incarnation of that archaic Christian imagery. There was nothing Christ-like about the beast that had ravaged this building and torn their beliefs apart. Its creator had not fallen from grace. It'd never been there in the first place.

Olivia's shoes crunched first over the snow on the parking lot, and then mounds of charcoal that used to be bookshelves as she picked her way slowly through the remains of the county coroner building. A solitary figure could be seen in the middle of the wreckage. The retreating daylight filtered through her full dark hair as she stood still, examining the damage. A car was idling on the side of the road near-by. Benson approached warily. Unsure of whether or not her presence had been acknowledged and processed, she spoke quietly so as not to startle the other woman.

"Hey."

Warner turned but did not return the cautious smile. "Hey." She turned back around and, mindful of the knee still in its metal brace, bent over to sift through the stale and now decaying debris around her.

Olivia shrugged one shoulder, trying to wiggle a little deeper into her wool coat. The sky was clear and quiet but it was still the dead of winter so the air was bitter and cold and stung bare skin like a slap. The cold leaked through the gaps between buttons and the fact that one arm wasn't in a sleeve somehow made it seem she was much colder. She shivered.

"Captain squealed on you," she said by way of explaining her intrusion into the devastation. Cragen had been reluctant to spill Warner's whereabouts but Olivia had pressed. She'd wanted to find the other woman before she left for the weekend.

She watched the doctor's precarious balance as the woman, still bent at the waist, picked up what looked like a book whose leather cover crumbled in her fingers. Nearly a full minute passed. "Melinda, you shouldn't be out here," Benson said gently with a soft shake of her head.

"Neither should you," came the non-confrontational reply.

"Both my legs still work properly."

"Your arm's in a sling." Warner straightened and tossed the ruined tome aside. She brushed her gloved hands and, after stabilizing herself, finally turned to face her friend. "Your counterbalance is off."

"Your leg's in a brace," Olivia countered with a jerk of her head at that leg. "Your regular balance is _gone_."

A moment passed and then both women chuckled softly.

"Quite a pair aren't we?" Warner mused. "One limb out of four trussed up, out here in the freezing cold arguing about whose balance is better, and digging through..." She trailed off and made a sweeping gesture around her body with her arm. "...through this." A quiet breath left her lips and trailed away from her face in a cloud of white.

Olivia bent her head. "Melinda I..." It took her a moment to find something suitable to say. And it didn't work. She shook her head and looked back up, a defeated shrug lifting one shoulder. "I don't know what to say. I'm--"

"Don't." Warner held up a hand. "Don't apologize. You were here."

"Your life was in this building."

"And I still have it," she replied. "That life. Papers, Olivia. Certificates and plaques. Books I probably should have thrown out after I graduated. I'm alive. You and Fin got out alive." She shrugged slightly. "I consider it a pretty generous trade-off."

Benson bent her head. "Not everyone got that lucky."

Warner paused here. Olivia waited for emotion, and it came, just not like she'd expected. "No. But I believe it was instant. I don't grieve for Dante. Neither should you. Considering where he is now, the ones we should feel sorry for are ourselves." Something caught her eye and she grunted and stooped to pull a rectangular and crusty item out from under the melted and disfigured carcass of a plastic chair. A small smile spread across her dark features. It was the kind of expression Olivia had come to associate solely with her. Unassuming and wise. Gentle, quiet.

And stronger than steel.

What Melinda Warner dealt with was ten-fold times more taxing than what her counterparts did. Olivia had Elliot to lean on when they arrived on a scene. If it was a tough one they faced it together and helped each other through any repercussions. They only speculated causes and conditions...Warner saw the whole story. She reconstructed it. She had to see in the most gruesome detail the last moments of a human being's life. If they died violently she had to re-live the circumstances behind every injury, listen to silent stories of torture and pain. She was the first person privy to and intimate with the nature, the evil, behind the deaths that cried for her expertise to justify. She no longer had an Elliot Stabler to help her shoulder that kind of emotional overload when she met with it. That person had been taken from her.

Olivia suddenly felt a deep sadness sweep through her, making her chest tight and leaving her full of a bone-deep shame. In nearly five years of working alongside her she had seriously underestimated the woman before her. Grossly underappreciated what she did every day. She'd never gotten it. And Elliot had once told her he thought _her_ strong? No. She was looking at strength - and there wasn't a mirror in sight.

"How can you not be angry?" Olivia asked incredulously, the whisper of her voice betraying that emotion was not far behind. "Insanely angry? Part of our lives have been destroyed. By people we just expect to have our backs. You get your knee blown out, Dante's dead, your building burns to the ground. Because of a cop, for God's sake. Cases we've spent months on get tossed, perps walk, department's facing a lawsuit.. How..." She stopped and sniffed, glad she could lie and blame the threatening runniness on the icy air. "How do we reconcile with that? With ourselves?" She shook her head and looked away. "We missed so many signals."

"We're not superheroes, Olivia."

Olivia let out a short, sharp almost derisive laugh and wiped her nose with a tissue she'd dug from her coat pocket. " 'You can't pick the vic'. That's what Captain Cragen told me when I was green. Couldn't pick the victims that came through the department." She stuffed the tissue back in its pocket. "The department _was_ the victim this time, Melinda. Us. So how do you stand there," she waved a hand at Warner, "in the middle of your gutted out office and spout off this rhetoric about fairness? I mean, I'm looking at you holding this fried picture frame and thinking 'How can she do that?' Our own damn infrastructure failed us, failed the population we're sworn to protect. How can you be ready to be out there saving New York City again?"

There was a poignant pause. Warner stared at the ruined picture frame in her hands a moment, then looked at the somewhat broken and world-weary detective in front of her. She closed the space between them and, lifting the woman's good arm, placed the frame in that hand.

"Because somebody has to."

With a gentle smile and a compassionate squeeze of Olivia's elbow she turned, limping noticeably, and carefully picked her way back towards the curb.

Olivia's eyes followed her for a second, then she looked down at the blackened frame she'd been given. She was jolted and thought left her. Kodak photo paper was brown and curled at the edges but, like the young body pulled from the soggy remains of Marcus Cain's home in Chaumont what felt like so many weeks ago, glass had protected the majority of the picture from flame.

A year ago the precinct had been snowed in. It was Munch's birthday that day. They'd had an hour or so respite from casework, so in a pitch for levity to the situation they'd emptied the vending machines in the break room and stuck toothpicks in the nasty pink frosting of unwrapped Grandma's Cookies stacked six high. Fin had one arm around Warner's shoulders, the other around an annoyed looking John's. Elliot had Olivia wrapped from behind, back to chest and holding her wrists to keep her in front of the camera. Alex was trying to stop the cookie-cake from toppling on its side on the desk and Captain Cragen was pointing at the camera with his mouth open, mid direction giving as the flash had gone off and Huang had sealed the image in time. Every one of them was smiling.

The warmth suddenly surging in Benson's chest scattered the cold depression that had been fogging her heart in anger and the air around her, inside her, didn't seem quite so chilled. Tears trailed down one cheek and glinted fire in the continually failing light and she looked back up, watching Warner's retreating silhouette. Her stricken expression was mingled with one of a deep respect as the doctor's husband helped her into the passenger seat and the car pulled away from the curb.

**xxx **

**-_Epilogue_-**

The precinct is quiet. Many of the building's main lights are off and the hallways are mostly deserted. Elevators are still. The phones do not ring. Another night has replaced day in New York, the precinct waits for its graveyard shift to clock in, and the Manhattan Special Victims Unit squad room is void of the men and woman that comprise it. The desks look the same as they did the day the current members of the team were assigned.

Except for one.

On one there is a rectangular 3x5 picture frame that was not there two months ago sitting near the top of the desk next to the pen holder. Dimmed after-hours lighting plays over the frame, creating a soft glare across brushed sterling silver. A captain, four detectives, a medical examiner and an assistant district attorney smile from their respective poses in front of a profiler cameraman that is hidden from view. The edges of the photograph itself are brown and curled, but glass has been replaced, photo paper carefully cleaned, and the memory again properly preserved.

What no one but the self-appointed curator of this picture knows is there, however, is the message that has since been carefully written in ink on the back of the delicate paper.

"Because somebody has to."

It's a simple phrase. But simplicity struck a cord in the core of a woman who had forfeited perspective to anger and abandoned purpose for despair, restoring both qualities to sharp focus and holding them in pristine condition.

She created her own drive years ago when she made the decision to become a cop and had joined the squad.

But this has become her mantra.

In her own heart or aloud to lift the heart of another, her resolve is the same...

It will not be the last time these words are spoken.

**End Story**

_A/N - Many, many thanks to everyone who's reviewed (you know who you are:D ), to those who emailed asking after me when I went AWOL, to kukrae for nudging me after every chapter to continue and write the next one, and my friend Tammy for plugging little ideas into me when Stabler gave me the snub :) Cheers to another good ride, thanks to you all, and here's hoping maybe I get the gumption again to write something else._


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